


Do Wrong To None

by msrosie01



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Indian Harry Potter, M/M, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Order of the Phoenix AU, POV Hermione Granger, Sassy Hermione Granger, Sleep Deprived Hermione Granger, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 64,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msrosie01/pseuds/msrosie01
Summary: An alternate universe where Hermione is too tired to care. Plagued with nightmares, sleep deprived Hermione is just trying her best to stop Harry from inadvertently killing himself. At the beginning of her fifth year, she strikes up a friendship with an unlikely Slytherin. This friendship changes her approach on life, challenging her to think that maybe not every son is like their father.This is the life of Hermione, a scholar, a student, a friend, a muggle-born, a bossy know-it-all.Starting in Order of the Phoenix and will continue past Deathly Hallows.





	1. Deep Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> It should go without saying, but alas, the wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me. If it did, Wolfstar would be official.

_Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. In. In. In._

_Shit._

Hermione approached the entrance of platform 9 3/4, gasping, silently, unable to take a breath out.

“Alright, love?”

She looked up and saw her dad frowning down at her. His brown eyes tinged with concern, dark eyebrows meeting up together on his forehead.

_Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Don’t freak out._

“I’m alright, dad.”

He was still looking at her with concern but shook his head and smiled down at her. “Well you better be little lady, it’s your fifth year! It’s your OWL year isn’t it? Is that what it’s called? And I know you’re just itching to get back to that library you love so much.”

This was familiar. This she could do. She laughed, “You know me too well, dad.”

They took a moment, in the midst of the busy crowd, to grin at each other and he laughed. She looked down at her feet to hide her growing smile. Her father’s laugh was her favorite sound. So full of love, joy and innocence. He threw his arm around her should and steered her towards the platform.

“Well this is it my dear,” said her dad, “You sure you don’t want me to come with you? Now, I know I didn’t react well the last few years, but I’m sure I’ll be used to it now. You just walk towards to a solid wall and go through it. Nothing abnormal about that.”

Hermione laughed, recalling the last year when her father practically had a mental breakdown trying to cross the barrier towards the Hogwarts Express. He was the most logical person Hermione knew. Things were black and white in Rodger Granger’s world, nothing in between, so when Professor McGonagall turned into a cat in their living room four years ago, he just about fainted on the carpet. After that he had spent every moment trying and failing to keep up with his daughter’s world.

“It’s fine dad, I’ve been crossing the barrier the last four years, I think I can do it by myself. No need to confuse the muggles with a grown man crying outside of platforms nine and ten,” she teased.  It was nearly impossible to tell with his dark skin, but she was sure she saw him blush.

“Hermione! Rodger!”

The pair turned around and saw Hermione’s mum walking towards them. Hermione took a moment to admire her mother. Her golden-brown hair catching the sunlight, curling slightly. Her smile shining brightly against her olive skin. Slightly annoyed, Hermione remembered the first time Ronald saw her mom, at the end of second year, _Bloody hell, Hermione. Your mum is fit._

She tugged at the end of her unruly kinky hair, the same texture as her fathers, but about five times the size.

“So, Rodger,” said Rose as she approached the pair, “are you even going to attempt it this year?”

Hermione giggled.

“Well Rose, I think not this year. I’m starting to think that there is no place in Hermione’s world for muggles like us,” Rodger chuckled.

Hermione’s stomach twisted into knots.

_There’s hardly a place for me, much less you._

_Deep breathes, Hermione. Deep breathes._

“Glad I caught you before you headed out darling, I thought I wasn’t going to be here in time,” said Rose, gathering up her daughter in a tight embrace. Hermione smiled, tears forming in her eyes, “Me too, mum.”

She let go of her mother, took a deep breath, wiped her face, and said, “I’m going to miss you both.”

“Oh love. We’re going to miss you too.”

Rodger drew both Rose and Hermione in to his chest and the three stood in the crowded platform, swaying, holding each other.

Rose whispered in her ear, “Remember, Hermione, ‘Love all, trust a few –'"

“'Do wrong to none,'” finished Hermione. It was her father’s favorite line from his favorite play. He claimed it as his mantra when he was Hermione’s age. She stepped away from her parents, wiped her eyes, and smiled. Grabbing her trunk and Crookshanks’ carriage, she said, “Love you both. I’ll see you at Christmas.”

With a deep breath, she walked away from her parents and onto her home.

 

The Weasleys weren’t there yet. Hermione knew that the family wouldn’t arrive until 15 minutes before the train was due to leave, and quite possibly even later.

She glanced at her watch, a present from her parents after she received her Prefect badge. 10:15. She glanced around at the platform, hardly anyone was there just yet. She spied Collin and Dennis Creevey chatting excitedly to their parents, who both had an excited yet uneasy look in their eyes.

Crabbe and Goyle were sitting on a bench, muttering to each other, glancing around.

_Probably looking for their master._

Not wanting to face that trio this early in the year, she picked up her trunk and cat and headed towards the train.

Sitting in the empty compartment, trunk overhead, Crookshanks purring contently in her lap, Hermione finally allowed herself to think, something that she had been avoiding all summer. These last three months had been tiring. In front of her parents, she put on a happy face. She couldn’t tell them the truth; that a homicidal maniac rose from the dead, attempted to kill her best friend, and wanted people like her, and her family left for dead or worse.

She rubbed her eyes. She was so tired. Bone tired. Dead tired. She had spent the majority of her summer avoiding sleep because of her vivid dreams and trying not to think of the future, trying not to dwell on the past.

_And so, we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past._

You-Know-Who was back.

He tried to kill Harry.

Her Harry could have died.

Granted, he had died almost every year, but this felt real. She would never forget seeing Harry sobbing, clutching Credic’s body. Hermione had never seen Harry cry before. It broke something inside of her.

Hermione shuddered, running her hands up and down her arms.

_Deep Breathes. In. Out. In. Out._

She looked down at her watch again, 10:30. She groaned and sank into her seat.

“Hermione!”

Smiling, she stood up, recognizing the voice.

Ronald Weasley threw open the compartment door, grinning, looking taller, skinnier, and frecklier than ever. 

Hermione’s heart grew and just about exploded from the look he was giving her.

“Cor, ‘Mione. Did you shrink? You’re getting smaller every time I see you.”

“Why thank you Ronald. It’s lovely to see you too. Why, my summer? It was fantastic, thank you for asking.”

Ron smirked and embraced her. Holding onto him, Hermione could feel her cheeks flush.  
“Merlin, Ron, move over. You’re blocking the whole entrance.”

“Harry,” smiled Hermione.  

He had grown taller, not much, but he was still taller than her. His tan skin looked paler then normal; his dark, curly hair even more out of control than hers was. He came up to her and pulled her close.

God, she had missed him.

Letting Harry go, she looked at her friends. Her brother and her… well, best friend.

“I missed you boys.”

“Well, we could have spent all summer together,” Ron drawled, looking down at her.

Hermione settled back into her seat, Harry sat across from her and Ron at her side.

“I wanted to spend time with my family. I feel like I spend more time at the Burrow than I do at my own house.”

“I know, I know. Honestly, you didn’t even miss that much,” Ron settled back into his seat, stretching his legs out next to Harry, placing his hands behind his head. Hermione let her gaze linger on his bare arms a second longer than necessary, shook her head, and looked away. Harry caught her eye and raised his eyebrows. She glared at him and he just chuckled.

Ron was still talking, “… all bloody summer. The things I’ve seen Hermione. Unbreakable lockets, screaming portraits, a music box that put everyone to sleep, boggarts, dead pixies, spiders the size of my hand.”

He held out his hand out for comparison. Harry rolled his eyes.

Hermione grinned.

This was familiar. This she could do.

 

* * *

 

_Who thought that putting a prat like Malfoy in a position of power was a good idea?_

Fuming, Hermione stormed down the hallway towards their compartment.

 _And Parkinson, she’s just as bad, quite possibly worse than Malfoy. They’re going to make life difficult for Harry._ She scoffed _, like Harry’s life doesn’t have enough complications and difficulties. The Slytherins have to go on and make it more so._

“You’re kind of scary when you get like this,” mused Ron.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, “Like what?”

Ron chuckled, “When you’re angry, your hair gets huge, like bigger than usual, and you mutter under your breath. Like you’re planning everyone’s demise. You literally part crowds when you’re like this, no one would dare to mess with you.”

Hermione sighed, and slowed her pace, walking next to Ron, “Malfoy is just going to make Harry’s life difficult this year.”

Ron snorted, “When does he not? The git.”

Hermione gave him a look, “Even more so than usual.”

She slowed down to a halt, and grabbed Ron’s arm, “How is he doing? Really?”

"Who, Malfoy?"

She smacked his arm, "I meant Harry, you arse."

He chuckled, then sighed, “Hell if I know. You know how he is; he’s going to keep it all bottled up until he explodes.”

They leaned against the wall, arms crossed, both lost in their own thoughts.

After a moment, Ron nudged her with his shoulder, “Come on, I’m starving.”

Hermione snorted, “When are you not starving, Ronald?”

When they approached their compartment, the door slid open and Hermione was attacked by a blur of red and freckles.

“Oof.”  
“Oh good Merlin, Hermione, I missed you. Why did you abandon me? You left me to fend for myself amongst all my brothers, it was a nightmare. Fred and George passed their Apparation tests and they have been bugging the shite out of me. And oh, don’t even get me started on Percy.”

Hermione laughed, “You don’t need me to control your brothers, Ginny, you’ve been doing that since you were in nappies.”

Ginny shrugged and sat down next to Neville Longbottom.

“Hello, Neville. Nice looking _Mimbulus mimbletonia_.”

Neville grinned, “Thanks Hermione.”

_Good old Neville. The only consistent person in my life._

Harry was glaring at the plant, like it had done him some personal wrong.

A perplexing looking girl with wide sliver eyes and dark blonde waist length hair was reading a magazine upside down. Hermione glanced at the cover, _The Quibbler_. Great. Looking at the girl’s radish earrings and wide eyes that seemed to never blink, Hermione groaned internally.

_I doubt she’s reading that to be ironic._

_I am way too tired for this._


	2. Lavender

_What the hell?_

The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts. Why? Hermione knew that since Dumbledore publicly announced his support for Harry, he wasn’t the Ministry’s favorite, but this seems a bit extreme.  

_This is what you get, Hermione. You wanted a normal summer, where you didn’t have to think about the impending doom that is your life. Then, Harry gets attacked by Dementors, there’s this whole secret anti-Death Eater organization you know nothing about. And now some pink toad is fucking with your education. And during your OWL year. Oh, good God this is not happening to me._

She was walking out of the Great Hall, Ron at her side, leading the group first years towards Gryffindor Tower. Not looking where she was going, she rammed her shoulder into a passing student.

“Oh, I’m so sorr- "

Theodore Nott looked back at her, she cleared her throat, “I’m sorry, Nott. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He smiled at her, “Not a problem, Granger. Have a nice summer?”

She was already walking away, not expecting a response. She paused, mid step, and comically took a step backwards towards Nott. He laughed, not cruelly, like she was accustomed to from most Slytherins, but lightly, higher pitched than she would have expected.

“It was nice, thank you. How about yourself?” Hermione asked politely.

The pair was blocking the entrance hall, forcing people to walk around them, each person giving them a second glance when they passed by.

“Oh, it was alright. My dad is a fucking maniac, but besides that, can’t complain.”

Hermione blinked.

“Oi! Hermione! You’re supposed to helping me!” Ron was leading the first years towards the staircase. He was looking back and forth between Nott and herself, a confused look on his face.

 _Alright?_ he mouthed.

Hermione nodded.

“I’ve got to go. Sorry. Eh, sorry about your dad,” she cleared her throat, “My dad’s not a maniac, but he really doesn’t understand magic, and it can get frustrating sometimes. Not that my situation compares to yours, like I said my dad’s not a maniac. I’m not trying to pretend to understand you… or understand your situation per say, but I guess I understand being frustrated with family… or something.”

_Oh God, please stop talking, you’re making an even bigger fool of yourself._

But Nott just grinned, “Thanks Granger. Much obliged.”

She awkwardly bowed, then ran away. By the time she caught up with Ron on the second staircase, she was breathing heavier than was probably healthy.

“I did not miss these stairs, oh my God.” She leaned forward and placed her hands on her knees.

_How embarrassing._

“What was that?”

“I’m out of shape, Ron. No need to be so rude about it,” she snapped.

“No, with Nott back there.”

“Oh. We were just talking about our summers,” Hermione sighed, finally breathing at normal pace.

“With Nott?”

“Yes, with Nott. Is that a problem?”

“Yes, it bloody well is, he’s a Slytherin.”

“Language, Ronald! And what does that matter? He was being perfectly pleasant. He always is, he’s not like most Slytherins. I’ve never had a problem with him.”

Ron scoffed, “He’s friends with Malfoy, I doubt he’s pleasant.”

Hermione gaped at him, “Seriously? You’re being so immature right now! What did the Sorting Hat literately just say? 'From external deadly foes, we must unite inside her or we'll crumble within.'"

Ron rolled his eyes, but she could tell that he was impressed by her quoting the hat's song verbatim.

"We were just talking about our summers, and he _was_ being pleasant! So much more pleasant than you’re being right now!” cried Hermione. 

“You know what Hermione, chat up the Slytherins, see if I give a flying fuck.”

They both heard a small gasp.

_The first years._

Hermione turned around and saw twenty wide-eyed eleven-year olds staring at them.

She smacked Ron on the arm and whispered furiously, “Seriously?”

Ron had the sense to look guilty.

“Alright Gryffindors, that was a perfect example of how to not interact with your housemate. Sorry about that. Oh, look, the staircase is here. Thank God. Let’s be on our way. Be on a look out for these alright? They like to move around often; it doesn’t matter if you’re on it or not. And if you ever get lost because of a rouge staircase, the portraits love to help out.”

“Except for Sir Cadogan. Avoid him at all costs,” interrupted Ron.

They walked up the stairs, avoiding eye contact. When they finally reached the Fat Lady, Ron looked over at her, smiling apologetically.

Hermione sighed, then smiled back.

_Who can resist that smile?_

 

* * *

 

 

_I am so tired._

Unfortunately, her thoughts weren’t loud enough to cover Lavender and Parvati's squeals of excitement, reuniting after a summer apart. The dormitory smelled like hairspray, perfume and nail polish.

_Why does it even smell like hairspray?_

“How was your summer Hermione?” asked Lavender.

“It was great, thanks. How about yours?”

“Oh, it was simply marvelous. I went to Paris with daddy and mummy for two weeks, and the first night we were there we went to this muggle clothing store that had…”

Hermione stopped listening. She laid back on her bed staring at the canopy, nodding and humming whenever Lavender paused for a breath.

“Hermione!”

She sat upright, “What?”

Lavender glared at her, “I was saying that isn’t it unfortunate about Harry? The Prophet says he’s mad of course and-"

“He’s not mad.” Now it was Hermione who was glaring at the other girl.

Parvati paused while painting her nails, glancing nervously between the two girls.

“Of course, he is,” Lavender giggled, “The Prophet is reporting about it. You-Know-Who isn’t back, Harry is just talking nonsense, he’s making a fool of himself. Really, Hermione, do you even read the Prophet while you’re out in the Muggle world?”

Hermione had just renewed her canceled subscription of the Prophet. She had not wanted her parents to see what was going on in the Wizarding World over the summer. The condescending tone in Lavender’s voice twisted her insides.

“It doesn’t matter what the Prophet says, because they’re just spouting a bunch of bullshit, and anyone who is stupid enough to believe that should just keep their mouths shut.”

Lavender gasped. Parvati was still holding the nail polish brush over her hand. A drop of crimson paint dripped onto the floor.

“Hermione!”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Hermione grabbed her towel, a large t-shirt that used to be her father’s and rushed to the bathroom.

She piled her hair on top of her head and wrapped a scrunchie around it, attempting to keep it off her neck, and stepped into the hot water.

_Poor Harry._

Hermione wondered if any of the boys in his dorm were being rude to him.

 _At least Ron is with him. I swear, if we have another repeat of last year, I am going to hex him right in the balls._  

She grabbed her body soap and lathered it in her hands. She broke apart her hands and breathed in.

_Lavender. Dammit._


	3. Nott

_Damn Snape and his potions. Damn Ronald and his limited emotional intelligence. Damn Fred and George and their stupid, clever projects._

_And Umbridge. That bitch._

Swearing made Hermione feel better. She would never utter those words aloud, unless provoked, but just thinking made her feel better. She was less likely to go on a hexing spree if she used rude words in her head.

Today was not a good day. Umbridge and Snape are the absolute worst. They were on her list.

Snape had been on her list since her third year, when he had gotten her favorite professor sacked because of a school boy grudge. And Umbridge had messed with Harry in the worst possible way, bringing up Cedric like that. How could she?! She is definitely on her list.

Her list consisted of a group of people who have tried to hold her back because of her blood status or they messed with the people she loved. And once she has freed all the house elves, abolished that bloody werewolf registry, and becomes the youngest Minister for Magic in a century, she is going to write them a strongly worded letter saying thank you for nothing.

She was walking up the hall towards the library, when she stood in front of the doors, she stilled, and took a deep breath. 

_Classes are finished and not even Umbridge or Snape can dampen my spirits now._

As she stepped through those glorious, beautiful high doors, she breathed in her favorite scent.

_Books._

She resisted the urge throw her bag on the ground and dance around the library while singing.  _These are a few of my favorite things…_

As Hermione passed Madam Pince, she gave her the most glorious, widest grin she could manage, and she got a slight nod in reply.

_Nothing can dampen my spirits._

_What. The. Hell._

_That’s my table._

It had been her table since her third year, which she had now named "the year Hermione was trying way too hard at everything and almost destroyed herself in the process." Since she was on a constant verge of a mental breakdown that entire year, she had claimed that table and everyone, including sleep-deprived NEWT students, knew not to mess with her table. 

But there he was, Theodore Nott, sitting at her table, in her chair.

She stood there for a minute, then approached him, and cleared her throat.

Nott looked up and grinned, “I was wondering if you were going to join me. Or if you were just going to stand there and glare at me for another five minutes.”

Hermione held her head up high and sternly said, “That’s my chair. You’re sitting at my table.”

“Relax, Hermione. You can share right?”

She glared at him. Most sane students would have left by now, but Nott was still grinning, sitting in her chair.

“So, I hear you are top of our year at Charms.”

She sighed, “I suppose so.”

“Perfect! Because I am absolutely hopeless. Draco won’t even help me with my homework anymore.”

She sighed again, “Fine. Just get out of my chair.”

He leaped to his feet, crossed the table to the other side and sat down again. He opened his copy of  _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_  and looked at her expectantly.

“What? You need help now?” she asked.

Nott settled in his seat, pulled a piece of parchment out of his bag, dipped his quill in ink, as if ready to take notes, “Sure, if you’re not busy.”

But she was busy, she had planned on spending at least an hour exploring the library, touching the spines of all the books she missed the past three months, questioning Madam Pince about any new additions, and then she was going to spend another hour carefully planning out her term in the planner she had purchased over the summer. But she couldn’t tell Nott that without sounding completely dull, so she sat down in  _her chair_  and grabbed her Charms textbook from her bag.

“So, Nott, what do you having trouble with?”

“Theo.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Theo, Hermione, I would appreciate it if you call me as such.”

“Okay then, Theo," Hermione said uneasily, "What are you having trouble with?”

“I am completely unable to cast a silencing charm. The frog I was casting it on simply swelled up to an abnormal size.”

“Oh, that’s a simple fix, look at page 107 of your _Book of Spells_ , and it thoroughly explains what you are doing wrong and how to fix it. Let’s read it together.”

 

* * *

 

 

They were still sitting at her table two hours later, papers and books abandoned, discussing house-elves rights.

“I’m not saying that the system should remain the same, it’s just that I don’t think you are being very realistic.”

Hermione scoffed, “Oh, I’m not being realistic. How unrealistic of me to assume that all creatures should have equal rights.”

“But that’s the thing, they don’t want equal rights, they want to cook, clean, and work for Wizards.” “

There’s a difference between working as an employee and working as a  _slave_.”

“Not to the elves, they view work as work, not as slave labor.”

Hermione scoffed, “Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

Theo looked at her with wide eyes, “That was beautiful,” he gasped.

“That was Albert Einstein.”

“And who is that?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “He was a muggle theoretical physicist. Just one of the most brilliant people to ever walk the planet.”

Theo strugged, "How was I supposed to know? And I’m not saying that all elves’ lives are ideal, they’re not. But for the most part, they’re content. And if we’re talking about compassion, if their masters are treating them justly, we shouldn’t mess with what the elves have, they’re perfectly happy looking after Wizards.”

“But that is after generations and generations of conditioning,” Hermione was getting worked up, she picked up her quill and dipped it into her ink well, she knew that if she didn’t keep her hands preoccupied, they would start waving around on their own accord. “They’re practically brain washed. I mentioned freedom and wages in front of the elves in the kitchen and they looked at me like I was the strange one. I only want what is fair for them.”

Theo’s eyes light up, “As in, the house elves here?"

Hermione hesitated, "Yes... Why?"

"So, you know where the kitchens are?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “That is what you choose to focus on?”

“Well, do you?”

She sighed, “Yes.”

“Fantastic,” he chimed. He stood up and started packing his bag. Hermione felt a bit disappointed; she was thoroughly enjoying their conversation, Harry and Ron tended to leave as soon as she brought up human rights movements.

Theo capped his ink bottle, and looked at her expectantly, “Well, I can’t get there without you. Pack up, darling, we have some house-elves to convince that they need some freedom, or something of the sort.”

Hermione stuffed her half-finished essay into her overflowing bag, with a huge grin.


	4. Dreams

Hermione woke up covered in sweat, breathing hard. She looked down at her watch, just barely visible in the moonlight streaming through her window. 4:00.

_I am not going to fall back asleep after that dream._

Quietly, she tiptoed to the bathroom, make sure to not wake up her snoring dorm mates. After lighting a few candles, she turned to the mirror over the sink, and stared at her reflection.

_Nothing special._

She inspected her arms, which had turned a few shades darker over the summer. Her hair was a mess, as usual. She carefully pulled her hair into a braid, trying to make it not so… big. The braid was thick and trailed half way down her back, loose curls that refused to cooperate framed her face. She leaned in closer to the mirror and quickly cast a glamour charm to hide the dark circles that seemed to have taken up permanent residence under her eyes. Not perfect, but better.

Dressed in her uniform, heavy book bag over her shoulder, she climbed down the girl dormitory staircase. She plopped herself down in her favorite arm chair in front of the dying fire, basked in the warmth and closed her eyes.

She jerked upright, her neck aching. She heard a soft laugh, turned her aching neck towards Harry, who was looking at her fondly.

“How long have you been here?” Hermione questioned.

“A bit. Ron’s knocked out, but I couldn’t fall back asleep," He paused, looking troubled, "I’ve been having these dreams.”

Hermione glanced at her watch, 6:05, her housemates would be entering the common room soon, “Yeah, I’ve been having dreams too, it makes it hard to even find the desire to sleep, you know? What are they about?”

Harry hesitated.

“Harry.”

No response.

“Harry Potter.”

“Hermione Granger.”

“What are your dreams about?”

He sighed, “Cedric. The graveyard. Voldemort,” He looked into her eyes, “How about you?”

“You-Know-Who killing my family,” she said staring back, “The Ministry telling me I’m not worthy of magic, snapping my wand.”

“Merlin’s saggy ball sack, aren’t you two rays of sunshine on this fine morning.”

Ron threw himself down on the couch beside Harry and tore open a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.

“That’s disgusting Ronald, it’s six in the morning!” cried Hermione.

Ron shrugged and offered the box to Harry, who popped a bean in his mouth. He grimaced, “Grass," he blew it out of his mouth forcefully, the half chewed candy landed perfectly in the embers of the fire. Ron laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder.

“I will never understand those candies. Why would you want to eat grass? Or earwax, it's so gross.”

Ron looked at her and said wisely, “You don’t always have to understand everything, ‘Mione.”

She threw a pillow at him, spilling all of the beans on the floor.

 

* * *

 

 

_God, I am so tired._

She stopped at the restroom before lunch and looked at herself in the mirror. Her dark skin looked pale in the florescent lights, the dark circles were back, her braid was two seconds away from completely falling apart.

_I look hungover. No, I look pissed._

She recast the glamour charm and set to work on her hair. By the time she was satisfied with her braid, there was only 15 minutes left of lunch. She headed down to the Great Hall, hoping to grab a sandwich before Defense Against the Dark Arts. There was no way she would be able to handle that class with an empty stomach.

While leaving the bathroom, she ran into Ginny.

“Hey, Gin.”  
“Hey, ‘Mione. I like your hair.”

Hermione self-consciously patted her head and eyed Ginny’s perfectly wavy, glorious, fiery red hair. Ginny laughed, “I’m serious, you nerd, it looks nice.”

“Thanks Ginny,” the pair started down the stairs together.

“Did you know that Ron is trying out for Keeper? And if you knew and denied me a chance to mercilessly tease my brother, then you’re a terrible friend,” said Ginny.

“What? He is? He didn’t tell me,” Hermione could hear the disappointment in her voice, and hated herself for it. Ginny gave her a knowing look, which Hermione chose to ignore.

“Wait, did he tell you?” asked Hermione.  
“Nope. I found him out. He got that new Cleansweep, so I was going to break in to the Gryffindor locker room and borrow it, but he was using it, charming Quaffles to fly at him. He wasn’t bad, not brilliant, but not bad.”

“You were going to steal his broom?” Hermione asked incredulously.

Ginny shrugged, “Yeah, I’ve been breaking into the broom shed at home since I was six and using the boy’s brooms. Mum never let me fly with them,” Ginny rolled her eyes.

Hermione laughed, “Why am I not surprised? Anyone who underestimates Ginny Weasley will rue the day.”

“Damn straight.”

 When they approached the doors for the Great Hall, they found themselves face to face with a few of their favorite people: Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and lagging behind them was Theo, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Taking pity on him, Hermione ignored the group and waved to Theo who grinned in return. Ginny gave her a strange look.

“Granger,” sneered Malfoy, “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

_And there goes my chance at having lunch._

“Well, I’m saying hello to my friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to step to the side of Parkinson, but she blocked Hermione’s path.

_I’m too tired for this._

“Oi, Parkinson, she said move it,” snapped Ginny.

A crowd had formed behind the Slytherins, students getting ready to leave for their next class, but not a professor in sight. Figures. She just really wanted to eat. She could see Harry and Ron leaving the Gryffindor table. _Perfect. Just perfect. Exactly what I wanted, a brawl breaking out in the Great Hall._

“A Mudblood and a Blood Traitor. How quaint,” spat Parkinson.

_That word has literally no effect on me anymore._

Ginny grabbed her wand, a hex on her lips, but before she could speak, Hermione drew her own wand and said, “Look Parkinson, we may be Mudbloods and Blood Traitors, but even with our filthy blood, we could absolutely destroy you with one hex. I’m sure you’ve heard of Ginny’s Bat Bogey; it’s not pleasant. Now, I am hungry, and I am extremely tired. Don’t mess with me.”

With every word, Hermione took a step closer to Parkinson, until they were almost nose to nose, Hermione saw Parkinson’s eyes drift to her wand and her grip tightened.

Parkinson paled, said, “You’re not worth it, Granger,” and stepped away, leading a wave of silver and green ties.

Theo approached her with bright eyes and kissed the top of her head, “You wonderful, beautiful witch.”

She shrunk away, patting her hair, “Stop it! Do you have any idea how long it took to get it to stay like this?”

Ginny was watching their interaction with wide eyes, “Hermione, you’re terrifying. I love it.”  
Behind Theo, she could see Harry and Ron approaching them, Harry looked at her and asked, “You alright, Hermione, Ginny?”

While Ginny scolded Harry, telling him that they were perfectly capable of taking care of a cow like Parkinson, she saw Ron looking back and forth between herself and Theo with an ugly scowl on his face. He caught her gaze, glared viciously, and stormed away. Her stomach twisted into knots, not feeling quite as hungry as before.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was knitting furiously when Harry walked into the Common Room. _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ floated in front of her, while she tried to finish off a red beanie. Five misshapen beanies were piled next to her.

“Hello, Harry. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How was detention?”

“Alright.”

_One-word answers, that's never a good sign._

“Lines was it? What is she making you write? _I must not disrespect authority figures even when they give me absolutely nothing to respect?_ ” she chuckled to herself.

“I must not tell lies.”

Hermione looked up from her knitting, “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah.”

She went back to her knitting and glanced at Harry, “You look a little pale, Harry. Are you doing alright?”

Harry sighed. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” The common room was silent except for the clinking of her knitting needles and logs shifting in the fireplace.

“She’s making me use a Blood Quill,” he whispered.

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ dropped to the floor. She threw her beanie aside and grabbed his hand.

_I must not tell lies._

“That hag. That awful frog. I can’t believe this.”

“Hermione-”

“No,” snapped Hermione, jumping to her feet, “She can’t do this. This has to be illegal. She’s torturing you, Harry! How is she getting away with this? Where is Dumbledore? He has to know this is happening! It’s his school for God’s sake.”

Harry sighed and slipped down on the couch, cradling his head in his hands. She stopped her furious pacing to look at him.

_He doesn’t need anyone to be angry for him, he has enough anger for the both of us._

“You should tell someone.”

He didn’t lift his head up, but talked into his hands, muffling his voice, “No.”

“Why not? This isn’t right, Harry. She has no right to do this to you.”

He was silent for a few moments, then looked into the fire place, the flames reflecting in his startling green eyes. “I don’t want to bother them. They’re got enough going on without me whining about detention.”

She knew Harry had trouble talking to adults when things went awry, the past three years had been proof of that, but this was bordering on ridiculous. Deciding that they were both too tired to start a fight that neither of them would win, she sat down next to him and grabbed his uninjured hand, “Are you sleeping alright?”

“Eh,” he stared at his knees, shrugging.

Hermione sighed, there was too much pressure on the fifteen-year old’s shoulders. _He’s just a kid, he shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this. None of us should._

“You know I love you, right?”

Harry looked up at her, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

_God, I want to track down the Dursleys and hex the living day lights out of them._

“I know you do, Hermione.”

“There are lots of us who love you. Me, Ron, all of the Weasleys really, Sirius, Professor Lupin, Professor Dumbledore. We all care for you so much. No matter what a miserable old bitch says.”

Harry laughed softly; he had always thought it was funny when she swore.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “I – I didn’t hear that much growing up.”

“The capacity for friendship is God’s way of apologizing for our families.”

Harry laughed again and laid down next to her, his head on her lap. She ran her fingers through his curly hair, scratching his scalp. He closed his eyes, and eventually his breathing steadied.

_You poor love and sleep deprived boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. This is my first fanfic, so if you see any inconsistencies or a grammar mistake please let me know.


	5. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.  
> I try not to quote directly from the book, but there are somethings that can't be helped.  
> Enjoy!!

Hermione slammed _Defensive Magical Theory_ onto her table at the library. Theo looked up from his Potions essay, “What’s got your wand in a knot?”

“This stupid book. It’s absolute rubbish. There is nothing worth learning within these pages. I can’t believe this. If I fail my OWL because of this woman and her inability to do anything satisfactory-”

Theo snorted, “You won’t fail. You’re the top of the class.”

“Because I work hard, I listen to what the professors teach us, I study, then apply it. But I cannot apply this book. It hardly covers the history of the spells we learned in fourth year Defense, let alone an actual description of the theory of the spells. He just goes on and on about how counterjinxes are improperly named, as if the name matters if you’re not even going to cover what counterjinxes actually are or how to use them defensively.”

Theo eyebrows were scrunched together and set aside his essay, sitting back in chair, “Does he really not cover the theory?”

Hermione shrugged, “It’s watered down. It’s not substantial or explained well. And if he actually goes into any detail about the theory, it’s barely fourth year material.”

“Huh, with theory in the title, I just assumed that the author would cover it. Silly me.”

“Right?!”

Madam Pince passed their table, glaring at Hermione, who smiled sheepishly.

“Well, if we’re not going to cover anything practical in class and seeing that I don’t fancy failing my Defensive OWL, want to look over past exams?” His eyes lit up and he said eagerly, “We could make a list of all the topics that have been covered in recent years, so we have some idea of what to study for.”

Hermione beamed at him, “Where have you been my whole life, Theodore Nott?”

“What are you doing, Theo?”

Hermione and Theo looked up to see Malfoy and Zabini towering over the table.

Theo cleared his throat, “Draco, Blaise. Would you care to join us? We’re studying-”

“Cut the shit, Nott. Why are you sitting with _her_?”

_Rude._

“Well, Draco, Hermione and I are friends. We are studying together; we were just discussing Defense Against the Dark Arts. We have our OWLs this year, you know. We need to be prepared.” Theo’s pale cheeks were tinged pink, he was glancing between Malfoy and Zabini, holding his gaze on the latter. Hermione noticed how different Theo acted around the other two Slytherin boys. His back was completely straight, hair pushed out of his eyes, his words cut short, and to the point. It was unnerving to see him like this, almost like he was a puppet, with his strings being pulled.

“Well, come on then, we can study together, you don’t have to subject yourself to the likes of her,” drawled Malfoy.

Theo’s cheeks flushed darker, “For your information, Malfoy, I enjoy studying with Hermione, she’s fucking brilliant, and, may I remind you, she bested you in every subject last year. But more importantly, she’s my friend. So, thank you for your offer, but I’m staying right here.” He sat back in his chair arms crossed and narrowed his eyes at the other boys.

Malfoy glared back, the tips of his ears turning red, his eyes drifted towards Hermione. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze, so she shrugged like Theo’s words hadn’t just warmed her heart, opened up the book nearest to her and hid behind it. Of course, the book she opened was _Defensive Magical Theory_ , and she opened to chapter fifteen, covering counterjinxes. She rolled her eyes.

She reemerged when she heard the boy’s footsteps fading away. Theo automatically slumped in his chair, his hair fell forward, covering his forehead.

 “Coward,” Theo drawled.

Hermione gasped and placed a hand on her chest, “I am not ashamed to admit that I avoid Draco Malfoy at all costs. I don’t know if you know this, but he doesn’t care for me, in fact, I’d venture to say that he hates me.”

“Really?” Theo feigned surprise, “I never knew. It’s not like he goes on weekly rants in the common room, complaining about you and your friends.”

“Oh my God. He does not.”

“Oh, yes he does.”

“That’s brilliant. Harry does the same thing.”

Theo let out a booming laugh, “Of course he does.”

A student at the next table hushed them. Hermione laughed softly and the pair grinned at each other. Theo dipped his quill in ink and set back at writing his essay. In their many study sessions, Hermione noticed that he always leaned over his paper while he writes, his straight dark hair, barely skimming the paper. When his feather quill occasionally brushed his face, he wrinkled his nose. Hermione often wondered if he needed glasses, it couldn’t be comfortable to lean forward like that. But he looked at peace, comfortable, not like when Malfoy and Zabini were hovering over them.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked look up, confused, “And what are you sorry about?”

She paused, drawing a breath, trying to find the words she wanted to say, “I’m sorry I took you away from your friends. I didn’t want to do that. I don’t want to make life difficult for you.”

Theo shrugged, “I’ve never been too close to them.”

Hermione winced, “But still, they’re your housemates. They all may not be the nicest, but you still have to live with them.”

He waved between the two of them, “This won't make a difference. At least Draco has gotten better this past year, but he’s still a bit of a prat. Blaise is decent, he tends to stay away from arguments, he just likes to play chess in the common room. Pansy is alright once you get to know her.”

When Hermione raised her eyebrow, he chuckled, setting aside his quill, “The Slytherin common room is a safe place for us, they’re alright in there, not like out here. It’s different out here.”

“How?”

Theo sighed, “Slytherins may be ambitious and cunning, but we still care for people, and we love, we just show it differently than most do.”

Hermione snorted, loudly, making the Ravenclaw at the next table hush them again, “Parkinson has weird way of showing affection then. I’ve never seen her be anything but cruel and manipulative.”

Theo sighed, “It’s more like we know how to assess the situation we are in, and we know how to act in order to achieve our goal, whether that goal is for the good of all, or completely selfish, well,” He grinned and leaned back in his chair, “We’ll never tell you.”

Hermione stared at Theo, thinking aloud, “It’s cunning, but not, because your actions don’t have to be deceitful or manipulative, because your goal isn’t always selfish.”

“Exactly,” Theo bumped his hand on the table, “But it makes it all the more frustrating, because I don’t know if they’re actually being sincere,” he pointed towards the library doors, where his housemates had left, “Or they’re using the people around them to fulfill their own desires.” 

Hermione’s gaze followed Theo’s finger, “That sounds awfully lonely. On both sides of the equation.”

“You have no idea,” Theo said darkly, he leaned down over his essay again. Hermione reached into her bag and grabbed a list of equations for her Arithmancy homework. It wasn’t due until next week, but she if she finished it early, she could pick up a book Professor Septima had mentioned for extra credit.

“Are we friends, Theo?”

“Of course, we are, Hermione. I never have to speculate with you,” he grinned wide, showing all of his teeth, “You’re a breath of fresh air.”

 

* * *

 

“So, I was looking at the map yesterday afternoon…”

“Yes?” asked Hermione.

“Have you got anything you want to tell us?”

She sipped her tea and looked at them over the rim of her cup. Ron and Harry scowled at her from across the table. They were both in a foul mood, Ron because of a letter he received from his prat of a brother, and Harry because of his godfather’s immaturity and recklessness.

_I’m going to need more than a cup of tea to make it through today._

She took a big gulp, draining the last of her tea, and grabbed the pitcher of coffee, pouring herself a cup.

“Nothing that I can think of. Why?”

Ron glared at her, “We saw you with Theodore Nott in the library.”

_Oh, that._

“Yes, we are friends now.”

“Friends, huh?” glowered Ron.

“Yes, _friends_ , Ronald. And I better not get any trouble from you two,” she pointed an accusatory finger in their direction, “Malfoy’s giving us more than enough of that.”

She took a tentative sip of her coffee and grimaced. Reaching for the jug of milk, she poured a generous amount in her cup, and poured a few teaspoons of sugar in.

_There. That’s better._

“What did Malfoy say, Hermione?” asked Harry.

“Nothing important, I just need you guys to trust me, and I trust Theo okay?”

“Theo?! You call him Theo?”

_It is way too early to be having this conversation._

“Yes, well that is his name.”

When Ron sputtered and waved his fork in her direction, she gently placed her wand on the table next to her and reached for her coffee. Raising her cup to her lips she said, “Ronald, I will not hesitate to hex you.”

Their conversation ended when the post arrived with Hermione’s issue of the Prophet.

_Ministry Seeks Education Reform Dolores Umbridge Appointed First-Ever “High Inquisitor”_

Hermione read the article aloud for Harry and Ron, their eyes growing wider, cheeks flushing with anger with every word she read.

“So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this ‘Educational Decree’ and forced her on us! And now he’s given her the power to inspect other teachers! I can’t believe this. It’s outrageous…” Hermione was breathing fast, eyes wide.

“I know it is,” said Harry. He glanced down at his not quite healed hand. Hermione felt a spark of anger.

_That’s how she got away with it. It is possible that I dislike her more than I like dislike Snape?_

She glanced up to see Ron hiding a grin behind his hand, chuckling.

“What?” Harry and Hermione said together.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see McGonagall inspected. Umbridge won’t know what hit her.”


	6. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.   
> There are some quotes directly from OotP, but mixed around a bit with my own words to fit better into my story. It's not my favorite, but here you go! Happy reading!

**Chapter Six**

“She’s awful. I hate her.”

“I know. Me too.” 

“We’ve got to do something.”

“Like what? Poison her? I could poison her, you know.”

“Yes, and I’m sure Azkaban would do wonders for your complexion.”

“Oh, bugger off Hermione.”

It was approaching midnight; they were waiting in the common room for Harry to get back from yet another detention with the infamous toad. There was a small jar of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles sitting on the table between them. Hermione had owl ordered a whole jar once Harry had told her about the Blood Quill.

“I’m serious, though, we need to do something. Not just to rebel against her, but to actually do something to further and better ourselves. We are not learning the requirements for the OWLS.”

Ron scoffed. Hermione met his eyes and gave him the filthiest glare she could muster. He sank lower into his chair.

_Coward._

Once Harry entered the common room, she pushed the bowl towards him and instructed him to soak his hand. The moment his wound hit the essence, Hermione could see the anxiety and pain leave his face.

_Maybe poison isn’t such a bad idea after all._

“If I had to go to Azkaban for anything, it would be for poisoning Umbridge,” she thought aloud.

Ron stared at her, “You filthy hypocrite. I offered the to do the same thing not two minutes ago and you made fun of my complexion.”

“Well, my complexion could handle Azkaban, Ronald, yours could not.”

Ron shook his head, “Well, if you’re getting Umbridge, I call Pettigrew. That rat. He slept in my bed when I was eleven all the way to fourteen. Still gives me the creeps.”

“Hm. Good choice.”

“Thank you.” 

“How about you Harry?” asked Hermione.

“Well, I’d rather not go to Azkaban,” replied Harry.

“Doesn’t matter, mate. You have to.”

After a moment of silence, “Well since Hermione called Umbridge already, I guess Crouch.”

Ron and Hermione hummed in agreement.

“This is probably something the Slytherins discuss in their common rooms, which one of the Gryffindors they would like to kill,” Ron snorted.  
Harry snickered, and Hermione was drawn back to her conversation with Theo a few days earlier.

_They’re alright in there, not like out here. It’s different out here._

Silence fell upon the trio, Hermione stared at the scars on the back of Harry’s hands. It was a cursed wound, no amount of murtlap tentacles would fade those scars.

“We need to do something about Umbridge. And I don’t mean poison her,” said Hermione when Ron opened his mouth to interrupt her. He snapped his jaw shut, looking disappointed.

“I’ve been studying with Theo these past few weeks, and together we made a list of-”

Ron scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“Nothing, I just can’t believe you are friends with that git.”

“He’s not a git, he’s a wonderful person, so please stop talking about things you don’t know.”

“Oh please, he’s slimy git. Just because you _fancy_ him-”  

Hermione laughed, “Ron, don’t be stupid! I do not fancy Theo!” The idea seems so ridiculous in her head.

_Is that really what he thinks?_

Ron’s face flushed, “I’m not being stupid!” He started counting off on his fingers, “You spend all your free time with him, you talk about him all the time, you defend him not matter what-“

“I defend him because he is my friend!”  
“What about me? I’m supposed to be your friend too!”

“You are, Ron! You’ve been my best friend since I was twelve years old but that does not give you the right to talk about me or my other friends this way.”

“If you two don’t stop this instant, I swear to Merlin, I will lock you both in a broom cupboard until you make up,” Harry was glaring at the pair, both of whom were flushing, Ron’s much more noticeable than Hermione’s. They made eye contact, then looked into their laps.

“I'm gonna go grab my potions book, I- um.” Ron rose to his feet, scratching his head, still red in the face, and walked up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory.

She stared after him, long after he had disappeared into the dormitory.

“I don’t know what to do about him. I can’t do anything without him starting a fight,” her voice sounded small in her ears, “And I’m no better.”

“You know what to do,” Harry said pointedly. Hermione blushed and looked away.

“I’m not going to. He needs to understand what he feels before either of us go confessing anything. We both need to get over ourselves in order for that to happen. And I don’t know if we ever will grow up the way we need each other to. I’m not risking our friendship for anything.”

Harry started playing with the tentacles in the solution. They sat in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Hermione, who finally worked up the courage, took a deep breath and said, “I think you should teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Harry stared at her, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Hermione cleared her throat, rummaged through her bag and pulled out the list she and Theo composed.

“This is a list of all the topics that will most likely be covered on our Defense OWL. You know every single one of these spells and more You know the theory, you know the wand movement, and you can cast them all flawlessly. You’re brilliant at it. Better than Umbridge, that’s for sure. So why shouldn’t you be teaching us when she refuses to?”

Harry grinned, then started laughing, he ran his hand through his hair and said, “Please be serious Hermione.”

“I’m completely serious, Harry.”

“Why would _I_ teach you? _You’re_ the top of the year, Hermione.” 

“I may be, but _you_ are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

Harry gaped at her, “Me? No, I’m not, you’ve beaten me in every test –”

“Actually, I haven’t. You beat me in our third year – the only year we both sat down and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I’m not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you’ve _done_!”

“Hermione, I haven’t done anything.”

“That’s lie! You saved the Philosopher’s Stone from You-Know-Who, defeated a basilisk, made the most wonderful, beautiful Patronus I’ve ever seen, and then you defeated You-Know-You again last year,” Hermione’s voice rose with every word because Harry was trying to interrupt her.

“You listen to me Hermione –”

“No, Harry, you listen,” Hermione said forcefully, “You are brilliant, kind, and wonderful. I know your aunt and uncle never said things like that to you, but it doesn’t make it not true. You’ve accomplished so much. Without you, Ginny would not be here, You-Know-You would have come two times over, and you, me and Sirius would have Kissed.”

He glared at her, “None of that matters, Hermione! You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own – your own brain or guts or whatever – like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die – they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that. I’m not clever, it could have been me instead of Diggory, if Voldemort hadn’t needed me, I would have died,” he was on his feet, breathing hard by time he finished.

“That’s why we need you, mate.” Ron had returned from the dorm and sat next to Harry, “You’re the only one who knows.”

He sat down next to her and gave her a small smile, which she quickly returned.

His smile gave her courage, she stared Harry, and said with passion, “We’re all just kids, Harry, but if V-Voldemort gets his way, we’re all going to be thrown into the middle of his war.” _Voldemort. What a wonderful relief it was to say that out loud. It makes him seem like less like an immortal figure, more like a human, just like me._

“He wants to destroy Muggle-Borns,” continued Hermione, “He converts and recruits Pure-Bloods. He looks down at half-humans, like Professor Lupin and Hagrid, and he manipulates them, uses them for his own personal agenda. And if they don’t agree to do what he says, he has no qualms about killing them all. We’re all going to fighting someone soon, whether we like it or not. And not just the three of us, Harry, but every Muggle-Born, everyone who dares to disagree with his beliefs. If we’re all going to survive this, we need to learn from someone with experience. That’s you, Harry.”

Harry was silent for few moments, he looked up at her, like he was seeing her in a new light, “He wants to kill people like you, like my mum.”

“Yes.”

“And he wants to kill me,” he paused, “Are you scared?”

“I’m terrified,” she whispered.

He groaned, ran his fingers through his already messy hair, making it stand straight up. He slammed his head onto the table, a bit too hard judging from the red mark on his forehead she saw when he looked at her, “I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like it. Please comment and let me know your thoughts!   
> I'm going to try and post a new chapter every Thursday, depending on how far I get. I have up until chapter 12 written, but I'm still editing a majority of them.


	7. Weasley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to update, I had an absolutely crazy week. And in lieu of a heartfelt apology, here are two chapters! And I'll still update the next one on Thursday.

“Merlin, Hermione, you look rough.”

Hermione knew that she looked bad, her hair collected messily at the top of her head, dark circles under eyes, a stubborn pimple had popped up on her cheek that morning, but it didn’t make Theo’s word sting any less.

“Thank you for your kind words, Theodore,” she glared.

Theo winced at the sound of his full name, “Sorry, you just don’t look very well rested.”

Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes, “I’m not. I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”  

Theo hummed sympathetically and rubbed her back.

_So, this is what it’s like to have a friend who doesn’t ooze angst or who is incapable of expressing his feelings. I could get used to this, it's quite nice._

“Fancy a picnic?” he asked, rubbing at a knot on her back.

After grabbing sandwiches from the Great Hall, they stepped outside and start walking towards the lake.

It was warm for October, the leaves on the trees were shinning bright orange and red in the sun. The lake was a glittering green. They sat in the shade of a tree and overlooked the grounds. Hermione sighed happily, “To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.”

Theo raised his eyebrows, “You’re so eloquent, Hermione.”

“That wasn’t me. Jane Austen.”

“And that is…”

Hermione scoffed. _Purebloods._ She pulled her mother’s old copy of Pride and Prejudice out of her bag.

“She’s a famous muggle author. This book is considered a classic, one of her more famous books. It’s my mum’s favorite.”

Theo gingerly grabbed the book, “Cheers. Can’t believe you’re trusting me with this.”

“Just know that if you mess with the book, I’ll punch you in the nose.”

Theo smiled at her, “Seems like a reasonable agreement.”

Hermione slipped off her socks and shoes, rolled up her shirt sleeves and leaned back on her arms, basking in the sunlight. She wiggled her toes in the grass, looked over at Theo, who was leafing through her book, and grinned, “I do wish the weather could be like this all the time. It’s so lovely.”

Theo hummed in agreement, “Soon, this is all going to be covered in rain and then snow and then we won’t see the sun for five months. Scotland is a wretched country.”

Hermione hummed and sighed. She threw herself back in the ground, raised her hands above her head and stretched, enjoying the tickling of the grass on her arms and legs.

“So, have you thought more about joining our Defense group? You’re more than welcome.”

Theo snorted, “Welcome by whom? I’m pretty sure it would just be you because you’re forgetting about something,” he waved the silver and green tie at her.

“Who cares? This year should be all about inter-house unity.”

“Hear, hear. But that doesn’t mean anyone is going to actually go through it.”

“Well, look at us. We're an unlikely pair, a snobby Muggle Born and the shy Pure Blood heir, people should look to us as an example.”

Theo laughed, he threw his head back, exposing his neck to the sky. Hermione loved Theo’s laugh, almost as much as she loved her father’s. But Theo’s was different than Rodger’s, whose entire persona oozed joy and love. Theo was reserved, he never let anyone close, that is, until he laughed. It almost always started out as a giggle, then morphed into a roar of joy. When he laughed, he wasn’t holding himself back, it was just pure Theo Nott. Hermione smiled at him fondly.

They sat under the tree until the sun started descending towards the skyline, discussing their latest classes, anxiety about the upcoming OWLs, and just enjoying each other’s company. Hermione hadn’t felt quite this content in a while.

Theo asked about her family and she took time describing her favorite childhood memories: when her dad would take her out for breakfast on Saturdays, going to the library down the street from her house after school, when her dad and mum would take the afternoon off at work so they could have a picnic in their backyard. Hermione’s dad would read aloud Shakespeare’s plays, explaining the old English to Hermione, and her mum fell asleep, lying on a blanket, getting tan in the sun.

Hermione sat up and looked at her companion, “What about you, favorite childhood memories?”

Theo changed his expression from smiling at her to a blank stare so fast it startled Hermione. 

"No memory comes to mind." 

Awkward silence filled the air. Theo was staring straight ahead at the lake, an indiscernible look in his eyes.

Theo cleared his throat, “So, what is Weasley’s deal?”

Hermione sighed, feeling only slightly grateful that he had changed the subject, “What do you mean?”

“I know he doesn’t like me because I’m in Slytherin, but that can’t just be it. Sometimes in class I look up and he’s just glaring at me, like I kicked his pet kneazle or personally insulted his mother.”

Hermione flushed, “I don’t really know.”

Theo stared hard at her, she cringed under his gaze, "What?" she asked weakly.

“Oh, Merlin.”

“What?!”

“He fancies you, and he thinks that we fancy each other.”

Hermione scoffed, trying to keep her mortified expression at bay, “No, he does not fancy me. We’re just friends.”

“Oh fuck,” Theo’s eye lit up in realization, “And you totally fancy him.”

Hermione was silent, her face felt warm.

Theo looked very proud of himself and giggled, “Really? He’s a bit of a prat, Hermione. You could do better than Weasley.”

“Oh, shut up,” feeling flustered, she stumbled over her words, “So, what if I fancy Weasley- I mean Ron? It doesn’t mean that he fancies- I mean, whatever my feelings are, they do not guarantee that anything is going to happen between us. He’s still as immature as always, he has no idea how to process his feelings for any type of relationship, much less a romantic one, so nothing can happen. And I’m perfectly fine with that.” 

“Are you though?” Theo raised one eyebrow so high it was almost comical.

_I swear, that must be a requirement to be a Slytherin. The first question the Sorting Hat asks is, can you raise one eyebrow so high it reaches your hairline? Oh, can you now? Must be SLYTHERIN!_

Shaking her head, she gathered her thoughts, “Yes, a romantic relationship with Ronald would be filled with fighting, sarcasm, and pettiness, and not just from him. He seems to bring out the worst in me,” she sighed, “Last year I went out with Viktor Krum for a few months, and even with all the lies the Prophet and Rita Skeeter were spouting, that was the least drama filled relationship I have ever had, and it was so refreshing.”

“I forgot about that. Good going by the way, Krum’s fit,” as soon as the word left his mouth, his face froze.

Despite the look of growing horror on her friend’s face, Hemione sighed, remembering her first boyfriend, “Oh, he was, wasn’t he? He offered for me to visit him this past summer, you know, but it was just better to end things. I don’t think my parents would have reacted well to me going to another country to visit my older international Quidditch star boyfriend.”

Theo laughed weakly, looking relieved, “Probably not.”

They sat in silence, watching the sun make its descent towards the horizon.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” asked Hermione.

Theo smiled at her fondly, “For just being you.”

“I can’t be anyone else, Theo.”


	8. Dumbledore's Army

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.  
> Happy Reading!

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” Hermione announced to the room at large. It was their first Defensive Club meeting, and Hermione couldn’t be prouder of her friends. This wasn’t the kind of rebelling like getting a detention or losing house points, this was a good type of rebelling, they were bettering themselves and taking a stand for what was good and right. No matter what Mrs. Weasley said.

“Harry’s the leader,” said Cho, glaring at Hermione.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at both Cho and Harry, who looked like he was about to either burst into giggles or throw up, “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly. It makes it formal and gives him authority. So- everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?”

Every member started to raise their hands, some more reluctantly than others, when a door behind them appeared and opened.

“Theo! We were just getting started, come on in.” Everyone slowly lowered their hands and glanced at each other uncomfortably. This had no effect on Theo, he walked in, head raised high and lowered himself with dignity on the cushion next to Hermione.

Hermione grinned at him.

“What is he doing here, Hermione?”

“He is here to learn Defense, Ronald, same as you are,” she replied fiercely.

“But he’s a Slytherin, Umbridge favors them, he’ll probably report back to her, get us all expelled!”

This made the group all look at Theo, who still held his head high. He glared back, as if daring anyone to say something.

Zacharias Smith glared back and stubbornly crossed his arms, “I’m not going to stay here if he is.”

A couple of people murmured in agreement.

_Well, then take off, Smith. See if we care. Bloody bastard._

“Hey guys, cut it out.” Hermione looked over at Harry in surprise, he met her gaze and nodded slightly, “We’re all here to learn how to defend ourselves. That’s the purpose of this group. Not to start a petty rivalry.”

Ron looked at Harry is disbelief, “But he’s just going to join the other side the second he gets the chance! His dad is a Death Eater!”

Theo sighed, and glared at the redhead, “Tell me, Weasley, are you mad about Muggles? Are you obsessed with Muggle toys and cars like your father?”

Ron’s ears were growing red. Ginny shot a crooked, disbelieving grin at Theo, who continued, “Oh, don’t like being compared to him do you? And I hear your dad is an alright bloke. Must be nice. You’re not your dad, and I’m not mine. I have my own views and I make my own decisions, alright?”

Awkward silence filled the room, then Fred and George started clapping, wiping fake tears from their eyes, “Bravo. Brava.” 

Hermione clapped her hand together, “Alright then, now that _that_ is out of the way, I think we ought to have a name. It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don’t you think?” She looked pointed at a few specific members. Ron glared at her.

“Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?” said Angelina hopefully.

“Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?” suggested Fred.

“Subtle, Weasley,” snorted Theo. Fred grinned in return.

“I was thinking more of a name that didn’t tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside of meetings,” said Hermione.

“The Defense Association?” said Cho, “The DA for short, so nobody knows what we’re talking about?”

“Yeah, the DA’s good,” said Ginny, “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army, because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear isn’t it?”

_Oh Ginny, you magnificent, brilliant witch._

 

* * *

 

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

Theo looked up from his Charms essay, he had been running his hands through his hair, making it almost as messy as Hermione’s. Almost.

“I am sure that you are not talking about last night, because if you are, you are not as intelligent as I had mistaken you for.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down in the seat across from him. This had become a routine of theirs: coming to the library every day after classes to study together. Theo was a pleasant conversationalist and shared similar interests with her. When she passionately described her club, SPEW, he was one of the only people to not look at her like she was mental, but instead pointed out his point of view of house elves' rights, seeing as he grew up with them. Harry and Ron were her best friends, but they much preferred to discuss Quidditch scores rather than magical creatures’ rights or the latest bill the Wizengamot had passed. She was starting to look forward to their times together and was quickly acknowledging him as one of her good friends, a person she could say anything to and not expect judgement in return.

“All things considered; it went lovely.”

“Sure, Granger,” Theo chuckled. He looked around and lowered his voice, “But I did enjoy myself, even if Longbottom can’t disarm for his life. Potter’s not a bad teacher either.”

Hermione beamed, she had been so proud of Harry, “He is, isn’t he? He was in his element.”

“Just promise me we’ll partner up next time, I don’t want to go against Longbottom again. I would like an actual challenge,” Theo sniffed, and sat straight up in his seat.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, “Careful there Nott, your pureblood is showing.” He ignored her and went back to his essay.

“Speaking of next week, I made something. But I can’t show you here.” She left the library and led him to an empty classroom. She pulled a bag full of galleons out of her book bag and placed on in Theo’s hand. “You see the numerals around the edge of the coin? On real Galleons that’s just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you’re carrying them in your pocket, you’ll be able to feel them. Each member can take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting, he’ll change the numbers on his coin, and because I’ve put a Protean Charm on them, they’ll all change to mimic his.”

“Good Merlin, Hermione. We aren’t supposed to learn this until seventh year. Is there anything you can’t do?” Theo gazed down at the golden coin in his hand, awed.

Hermione looked pleased with herself, “Do you think this will work though? I stayed up all night fixing these. I’m going to pass them all out at the next meeting.”

“They’re brilliant. Truly.”

“Perfect, well, take yours now.”

“Cheers.”

Hermione stared at his long pale fingers turning the coin over and over again, examining it.

“This is weird isn’t it?”

He looked up at her, “What is? The coins? No, I was being sincere, they’re absolutely brilliant. _You’re_ brilliant. I’m just trying to understand how you got the gold to-”

“No, mean us. Our friendship.”

The coin stilled in his hand. He shrugged, “I suppose you haven’t had any close friends besides Potter and Weasley,” he drew out Ron’s name, rolling his eyes.

Hermione fixed him with a glare, “I just mean, you don’t find many Gryffindors and Slytherins acquaintances much less friends. It’s mostly just been firing jinxes back and forth and calling each other rude names.”

“I’ve never done that,” Theo said quickly.

“I know that. It’s just, I’m curious to how your housemates are reacting? Malfoy didn’t seem too pleased to see that a Slytherin had paired up with a Gryffindor.”  
Theo stared at his feed, shrugging again, “They’re alright, I guess. I’ve never truly been part of them. I mean, they’re my friends, and Slytherins will always stick together, no matter what, but they all grew up together, all the pureblood families. Malfoy and Parkinson have known each other since nappies. My dad was a bit… paranoid while I was growing up, so I didn’t get to go to the parties, the galas, or playdates. I stayed home.”

“Were you lonely?”

“No, I had mum and Pixie, my house elf who took care of me when my mum couldn’t; she was a bit sickly.”

Hermione noted how he had used past tense. Theo sat down on a desk, setting up a cloud of dust and stared down at his feet. After a few moments, he said, “She died when I was twelve, right before the beginning of second year. She had always been sick, a curse or something from when she was younger, from before the first war, I think.” His voice was void of emotion, like he was stating facts about the Goblin Wars rather than talking about his dead mother.

“I’m so sorry, Theo.”

“I was able to be there when she left,” he let out a soft laugh, “not sure if that made it easier or worse.”

Hermione settled down next to him on the desk and grabbed his hand. He stared at their intertwined fingers.

She looked up at him, “I think you’re pretty great, Theo."

 “Eh, I'm not really. I’m kind of a bastard.”

Hermione laughed, “Not to everyone, just those who deserve it.”

Theo laughed, that wonderful pure laugh of his, pulled his hand away and threw his arm around Hermione’s shoulders, “True, my friend, very true.”


	9. The Fight

Hermione was stressed. End of term exams were coming up, it was impossible to get a breath of fresh air for the snow was piling up outside, Umbridge had made it her personal mission to destroy Hagrid’s credibility, and to top it all off, her parents wanted to go skiing over winter break. She did not want to admit it in front of Ron, who found the very idea of skiing wildly amusing, but she was not very good at it, and would probably spend most of the break in front of a cozy fire, reading books, while her parents spent their time outdoors.

Hermione and Ron were hanging up tinsel in the hall outside the library as part of their prefect duties. Hermione was surprised when she received a letter from Ron last summer telling her about his new Prefect status. She had thought that it would have been Harry, but she looked forward to these times with Ron, just the two of them patrolling the halls, overseeing the younger years, even if he complained about it later to Harry.

Harry had been wound up tightly lately, ready to explode at anyone who so much looked at him funny, so it was nice to have a chance to hang out with Ron without Harry’s temper looming over them.  At least that was what she told herself, it wasn’t because she enjoyed making him laugh or how his blue eyes would sparkle when he told a particularly dirty joke, making her smack him in the arm or how their hands would brush while walking the halls or the soft smiles that he gave her during their late-night patrols.

Ron was holding his wand in the air, trying to get the tinsel to stay up, and it would for a moment and then fall down to the ground again. He had been attempting this for five minutes, the tips of his ears growing steadily more red.

Hermione took pity on him and discreetly placed a sticking charm on the tinsel, where it folded gracefully over the gargoyle. Ron grinned looking proud of himself.

“You sure you won’t join us for Christmas? This skiing sounds unnecessarily dangerous and hilarious.”

Hermione smiled, “I’m sure Ron. Make sure to thank your mother for me.”

Ron grinned, “Make sure you take some pictures. And none of those muggle ones, I want moving pictures of you skiing,” he let out a great laugh that echoed in the hall.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Sure thing, Ronald.”

“Muggles, so strange.”

“I’m sure it’s not just us, you wizards are strange too. Brooms are not meant to be flown around; they are for sweeping.”

Ron chuckled and looked down at her fondly, making her heart race, “Hate to break it to you Hermione, but you’re not part of the Muggle world anymore, you’re a witch.”

Hermione flushed and checked her watch, “Well, it’s almost dinner, I said I’d met Theo in the library in a few, he wanted me to go over his Charms essay.”

Ron’s glowing smile and sunny disposition instantly disappeared.

_And we were having such a good time. Great job, Hermione._

He scowled down at her, “Right. Nott. Your _friend._ ”

“He is my friend. _Just_ a friend,” Hermione scowled right back at him, “You have no right to be angry with me. You can’t control who I’m friend with,” she continued when his eyes narrowed at her. “Now, if you’re done acting like a _child_ , I have to go. I’ll see you at dinner.” She knew the child comment was a bit much, but the look of shock on Ron’s face was worth it.

Hermione walked over to her normal table in the library and looked around for Theo. She glanced at her watch, she was a little earlier than they had planned, so she walked over to the Transfiguration section, looking for a book to assist her in her latest essay.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t go home for the holidays.”

She recognized Parkinson’s voice coming from the other side of the bookshelf. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, she slowly started stepping backwards.  
“Pansy, just drop it. You’re not my mother.”

She froze, Parkinson was speaking to Theo.  
“Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to-”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence. You don’t know a fucking thing about my mum, okay?” snarled Theo.

She knew that she shouldn’t be listening, but something was holding her back, her curiosity, her wanting to make sure that Theo was okay, but mostly her curiosity.

Parkinson sighed, “Theo, I know more than you think. Our dads aren’t that different. It isn’t exactly pleasant for any of us to go home. Myself, Draco-”

“My father isn’t like yours or Draco’s.” Hermione flinched the venom in her friend’s voice, “Malfoy and your dad would do anything for your family or power, they manipulate, pay people off, but in the end it’s for their family. My dad… he does it for fun. He manipulates, he controls, he blackmails, all because it amuses him. He’s not- He’s not safe to be around. And I refuse to be his pawn. I’m finally starting to stand up for myself. I thought you would understand that.”

“This is not standing up for yourself. You think if you come out as a muggle lover, your dad would accept it? He’ll go crazy. He’ll hurt you. And all for what? A stupid Mudblood like Granger?”

Hermione’s heart stopped.

“Don’t call her that,” Theo growled at Parkinson, “And yes, I am willing to do whatever it takes to get out of my father’s grip.”

_No._

Parkinson scoffed, “Well, how will she react when I tell her that you’re just using her to stand up to dear old dad? Do even like her, or do just like how her blood status makes you look?”

_Oh, God._

“You’re out of line Pansy. Why do you even care?”

Her voice was filled with hurt, “I thought we were friends, Theo. At least, I thought we had a mutual understanding because of our families’ situations.”

“Well then you understand that my father is crazy, and I will do absolutely anything to get out of that fucking house.”

Hermione could hear the sneer in Parkinson’s voice, “Even befriend a Mudblood.”

“I told you not to call her that!”

Silence fell between the two Slytherins. Hermione could hear one of them lean against the shelf, shifting the books.

“He won’t just let me leave, so I have to do something drastic,” Theo whispered so softly that Hermione almost didn’t hear him. She wished that she hadn’t heard him. She took a shaky breath and walked quickly out of the library, an overwhelming feeling taking over her chest, making it hard to breathe. She stopped just outside of the doors and tried to catch her breath. She heard heels against the stone floors. Looking up she saw Parkinson walking her way. Seeing Hermione’s red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, the Slytherin smirked, waved her fingers at her and walked down the corridor.

_What a bitch._

She leaned against the wall in the corridor, trying to understand what she had just overhead. She had shared stories of her childhood, all of their studying sessions, Theo had opened up and talked about his mother’s death, even though she knew it was difficult for him. All of that couldn’t be fake, a ruse to get himself kicked out of his childhood home. If he had only told her, if he had told her that he needed help, then she would have done anything for him. The dark-haired boy she had come to call a friend.

“Hermione. We were supposed to meet up five minutes ago. I thought you forgot, so I’m headed to dinner, care to join?”

Hermione was silent, staring at her shoes.

“You alright?”

She opened her mouth, then shut it again, trying to gather the words she wanted to say.

“Hermione. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me?” Hermione said in a shaky voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“I overheard you talking with Parkinson,” Theo’s face slowly drained of color, his eyes widening.

“Hermione, look-”

“If you needed help, I would have gladly helped you. I know people, as weird as that sounds, but I know that Professor Dumbledore would have assisted you if needed it. Harry is still in contact with Professor Lupin and Mad-Eye, the real one not the fake one, and if any one of them had known that your dad was going to hurt you, they would have helped.”

Theo’s face flushed, “You don’t understand, you really don’t.”

“Because you didn’t tell me! I had to overhear you telling Parkinson! The girl who has tormented me since I was eleven! I thought you trusted me, Theo.”  

“Of course I trust you! I’m just - I’m not a bloody Gryffindor okay? I’m a Slytherin, this is what we do, you know that.”

“So, you were just using me to achieve your goal, huh? To get yourself kicked out? Disowned?”

Theo’s eyes were wide, and he reached out to touch her arm, “No, please, Hermione, you don’t understand-”

“So, what is it Theo?” she looked up at him, pulling her arm away. She refused to back down, refused to show weakness, refused to show that his words had broken something inside of her, “You didn’t befriend me because you thought that you could piss daddy off by being friend with a Mudblood?”

He winced, “Fuck, Hermione. Don’t say that.”

Hermione was breathing hard, trying to keep her tears at bay and asked quietly, “Were you using me?”

Theo hesitated, and opened his mouth, but Hermione was done, the feeling in her chest made her heart feel like it was about to burst. This was worse than any rejection she had experienced, worse that her best friends ignoring her over a bloody broom, worse than Ron yelling at her after the Yule Ball, worse than her father’s unwillingness to even try and understand her new life. Theo had used her for her blood status, something that she had been ashamed of since her second day at Hogwarts, when a third year Ravenclaw called her a Mudblood. She turned away from him, feeling her hair whip him across the face. It took all of her dignity and courage not to run down the hall. 

“Hermione! I promise it’s not like that. I like you for you, okay?” he followed, jogging to keep up with her. “When we ran into each other after the feast in September, my intentions might not have been completely pure, but then I got to know you. Not the Granger who was so eager to show everyone how much smarter you are, but the Hermione who loves her friends more than she loves books. The Hermione who doesn’t miss the opportunity to be sarcastic, who is so awkward that it’s adorable and who is so fucking smart, it’s honestly scary. I’ve always admired you; you know that. Every interaction I’ve had with you, every conversation has been because I _want_ to. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?”

She stopped so abruptly that Theo almost ran into her.

“Who wouldn’t want to be my friend? Are you daft?” she yelled. She felt something break inside of her. All of resentment she had felt since joining the Wizarding World, the fear since Voldemort had returned, was rising up in her, bursting out in a stream of words she directed at Theo, “I have faced discrimination my entire life, Theo! In the muggle world, it was because of my skin, and when I came home crying because my classmates were calling me horrible names, my mum always told me that the color of my skin wasn’t important, it was what was inside that mattered,” she laughed, almost hysterically, “And then I get here, the wonderful Wizarding World, and I find out that my dark skin doesn’t matter, it’s my blood that dirty,” she took a deep breath, “I thought you were better than the rest of them.”

Theo looked pained, his face turning pale, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t want to hurt you, I never wanted that.”

Hermione sniffed, “I know. I know that, I just-” she paused, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “I just need a second, okay? I need some time to gather my thoughts.”

Theo nodded frantically, “Of course, of course.”

Hermione let out a breath and said in a thick voice, “I’m some bloody trophy and I’m not a way to rebel against your father. And I need you to know that.”

She turned her back to him, wiped her eyes then froze.   
Draco Malfoy was standing at the end of the hall, staring at her. He had two bright patches of red on his face, his chest was heaving slightly, like he had just run up a flight of stairs. But it was his eyes that drew Hermione’s attention. They were a dark grey, open wide, drowning in what seemed like shame. It was a strange look on him. She stared back, trying to ignore the look the was giving her, daring him to say something. When he stood there, silent, Hermione glared at him and said, “What do you want Malfoy?”

He shook his head and whispered, “Nothing.”

She walked past him, head held high, ignoring the growing anxiety in her chest because she had just poured out her deepest insecurities in front of her childhood bully. When she was about to turn the corner, she looked back and he was staring at her, with a strange look on his face, like he was seeing her for the first time. Heat rose to her cheeks and she all but ran away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draaammmaaa! Let me know what y'all think.   
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, they mean the world. Have a wonderful weekend!


	10. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.  
> REALLY long chapter and kind of a filler, but not really.  
> Hope you all enjoy!  
> Happy Reading!

Hermione stepped out of the Knight bus with Professor McGonagall. The professor’s face was extremely pale, Hermione held onto a lamp post to steady herself.

 _Why on earth would anyone willing subject themselves to that? And they call Muggles mad._  

“Here, Miss Granger,” her professor handed her a sheet of paper.

 _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_.

Hermione thought about the words and looked up to see number twelve pop up between eleven and thirteen. The paper turned into ashes in her gloved hands.

_Brilliant magic. Absolutely brilliant. I NEED to do more research on the Fidelium Charm._

Walking inside, she was surprised how gloomy the house felt, despite the number of Christmas decorations scatter haphazardly on the walls. In the distant she could hear a booming voice singing naughty version of Christmas Carols, and laughter after some particularly colorful lyrics.

Ron was sitting on the stairs and leaped to his feet when she walked down the entryway.  
“Hermione! Bloody fucking hell, I am so glad you are here.”

“Mr. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Ron with disapproval.

Ron turned bright red and muttered, “Professor. Happy Christmas.”

She nodded and smiled slightly and made her way down the entryway into what Hermione assumed was the kitchen, by the smell of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking.

Ron ran the rest of the way up to her and gathered her in a hug, squeezing her tight. She could feel his heart beating, his chest rising with every breath, his face in her hair. She wrapped her arms around him and held him, enjoying the closeness. When he released her, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

He rapidly explained what had happened in the hospital room, with Mad-Eye suspecting Harry was being possessed, running his hands through his hair, making it stand up on end.

“Well, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Is it though? You weren’t there Hermione. It was bloody terrifying. He was thrashing in his sheets, he threw up, he was paler than I’ve ever seen him. If he’s not being possessed, then what the bloody hell is going on?” Ron’s eyes were wide, he looked frightened.  
Hermione shook her head, “I’m not sure what’s happening with Harry, but he definitely isn’t being possessed. Where is he?”

He led her upstairs to the room where Buckbeak was living, the foul smell of livestock and dead rats emitted from the room. Wrinkling her nose, she knocked on the door. She heard Ron make his way down the stairs, telling her to meet up in the boy’s room when they were done.

“I know you’re in there. Will you please come out? I want to talk to you.” Hermione knocked hard on the door again.

Harry opened the door and stared at her, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Happy Christmas to you too.”

“I thought you were with your parents?”  
Hermione sighed, “Honestly, I don’t like skiing. Don’t tell Ron. I was just going to spend the entire holiday, inside studying, so I told my parents that I needed to stay at Hogwarts. But then I told Professor McGonagall that I needed to be here because my best friend is being a prat to himself and to his friends and I will not stand for it.”

“What are you talking about?”

She sighed again. _Honestly, he’s so intelligent at one moment, and awfully thick the other._

“Let’s go to your bedroom, Ron’s mum has lit a fire in there and she’s sent up sandwiches.”

Harry led her to his room, where Ron and Ginny were sitting on the bed to the right. She grabbed four sandwiches and bundled them into a napkin. She then grabbed Ron’s arm and pulled him up from the bed. Giving Ginny a knowing look, which she thankfully returned, Hermione dragged Ron out of the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“What was that for?” asked Ron, rubbing his arm.  
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Harry is an idiot who thinks he is being possessed by Voldemort. I’m letting him have a chance to talk to someone who spent a year actually being possessed by Voldemort, so that Harry can realize how much of an idiot he is.”

“Oh. Right.”

They sat down in the hallway, backs against the wall and started at their sandwiches.

There were portraits lining the walls, the inhabitants looking down their noses at them, scoffing and huffing in disapproval.

“Well, aren’t they lovely?”

Ron scoffed, “You should meet Sirius’ mum.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, with a mouthful of food, Ron said, “You’ve been weird this year.”

_Disgusting. Why can’t he just close his mouth?_

Hermione breathed deeply through her nose, “How so?”

Ron swallowed, took another huge bite and said, with his mouth full, “You’ve more forceful. You stand up for yourself. Coming up with the idea for the DA, showing up Parkinson in front of the whole school. I’m not complaining. I think it’s brilliant. It’s just… different, you know? You’re different.”

Hermione was silent, she thought back to the years prior when people used to step on her, belittle her, accuse her of cheating because a Muggle-born could never have reached the top of the class without assistance.

“I just got tired, I guess.”

Ron hummed and took another bite of his sandwich.  
“Nott have anything to do with it?”

Hermione glanced over, he was staring at the wall across from them, chewing thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure. I think some of it.”  
Ron finished the last of his sandwiches and Hermione handed him half of hers.  
He smiled at her, “Cheers.”

“We got into a fight,” she whispered, “He was hurtful but I’m not sure that I reacted well. But at the same time, I’m not sure if I reacted enough.”

For a split-second Ron looked angry, then he took a deep breath, breathing loudly out of his mouth.

“What did you fight about?”

Hermione held her breath, she could rationalize their argument in her head, but she knew the moment she said it out loud, Ron would throw a fit, making the whole situation seem bigger than she wanted it to be.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had started to depend on Theo’s friendship. She missed his witty sarcasm, helping him with his Charms homework, his bright smile, his loud laughter, the way he would stand up for her against his own housemates.

It was different than with Harry and Ron, she was friend with them because they all needed each other. It definitely wasn’t love at first sight, they didn’t always agree or get along, and they were constantly getting on each other’s nerves, but were the Trio. They were bound together out of necessity, love, and a knocked-out troll. With Theo, it was a friendship that they both chose to pursue. She could have easily kicked him out of her table and wouldn’t have spared him a second thought. It would have been her table again, not theirs. But they both decided to become friends, it wasn’t thrust upon them. And it wasn’t easy to turn her back to that. In a way, he was her first friend. But because of that, it made his betrayal sting even more.

Hermione shrugged and mumbled, “Just some miscommunication, I think.”

Ron took the last bite of his sandwich, “Well, whatever happened, I hope he pulls his head out of his arse. He’s good for you, I think. You both seem…”

“Compatible,” finished Hermione.

“Yeah, compatible. If he makes you happy, you should go for it.”

His wording confused Hermione, then she burst into laughter, “Wait, do you still think we’re dating?”

Ron’s entire face turned bright red, “Well, yeah, aren’t you?”

Hermione laughed again, “No, we’re not! How many times have I told you? We are honestly just friends. I don’t care for him like that.”

Though it seemed like it would be impossible, Ron’s face turned even brighter, he was practically glowing in the dark hallway.

Hermione continued, “We understand each other, and we have these wonderful conversations. He’s very-” she thought back to their argument, how he had used her. And then back to that day in the library when he explained Slytherin politics to her.

_It’s more like we know how to assess the situation we are in, and we know how to act in order to achieve our goal, whether that goal is for the good of all, or completely selfish, well, we’ll never tell you._

The door to the bedroom opened, and Harry and Ginny emerged, laughing. Harry was looking better already, cheeks flushed and a big smile on his face. Ginny was looking at him, with a soft smile. Hermione quickly shot her a look that clearly said, _you have a boyfriend Ginny Weasley. Don’t you dare._ Ginny quickly looked away and announced that she was going to look for Fred and George.

Harry settled himself down next to Hermione and nudged her shoulder.

“Thanks.”

Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek, “Whatever would you do without me, Harry Potter?”

Harry and Ron both snorted and started arguing back and forth. Ron loudly proclaiming that Harry would have definitely died in first year, but Harry was sure that he would have made it at least half way through second year, possibly even to the beginning of the summer before third year, but definitely not past that.

Hermione nestled down between her favorite people, forcing all thoughts of Slytherins out of her mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione stormed up the stairs to the attic for the second time in two weeks. The first was to have Ginny knock some sense into a moody git, now it was her turn. Knocking loudly on the door, she didn’t wait for a response, and walked right in.

Sirius standing next to Buckbeak, feeding him, while stroking his long feathers.  
“Hello, Mr. Black.”

Sirius grimaced, “Please, do not ever call me that. Reminds me too much of my father. Not very pleasant memories.”

Hermione cleared her throat, “Speaking of unpleasant childhoods, your godson is downstairs in the library, sitting with Professor Lupin. I think it’s time you joined him.”

Sirius looked at her incredulously. She cleared her throat again, “Harry would like to spend more time with you, and that’s rather difficult when you’re sulking up here. He’s going through a very difficult time right now, and he needs as many people as he possibly can, by his side, loving and encouraging him,” she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

She half expected him to yell at her, and throw her out of the room, but he let out a laugh, a huge booming laugh that echoed in the small room.

Wiping at his eyes, he croaked, “You’re a force of nature, you know that?”

“Yes, I do. Thank you.”

He stood there for a moment longer, stroking Buckbeak’s feathers, running them through his fingers. He sighed, rose to his full height, and headed out of the attic, clasping Hermione’s shoulder on his way out.

Satisfied, Hermione skipped down the stairs after him, making sure that he was going to the library.

They both walked into the library and found Harry, Professor Lupin, Ron and Tonks sitting on the floor, a bunch of pictures scattered around them. Lupin was holding up a picture in one hand, and waving his other hand around, telling an animate story. Harry was clutching his stomach he was laughing so hard.  
“Padfoot was running around barking like mad, practically waking up the entire castle. An extremely drunk Prongs was _prancing_ along the Transfiguration corridor. The next morning of course, he denied it, but I swear to God, literally prancing. In my drunken state, I was sure that it would be easier to explain a dog rather than a full-grown stag, so I tried to cover Prongs with his invisibility cloak.”

“Oh, I remember this!” Sirius leaped down on the ground next to Harry, wrapping his arms around him, “So that is how dear old Minnie found us, a drunk Prefect trying to wrap an invisibility cloak around a deer’s head, and a slightly off kilter dog, chasing its own tail. She just looked at us, and then turned around and went straight back into her office. No questions asked. Didn’t even mention it in class the following Monday. She just said, ‘Tuck in your shirt Mr. Black, you are not an animal.’” He said this, perfectly copying Professor McGonagall’s voice making everyone burst into laughter.

Professor Lupin looked up and saw Hermione leaning against the door frame, “Miss Granger! Please do join us, we were just reminiscing with some old photographs.”

She settled down between Harry and her former teacher, looking at the stacks of photos.  
“Wotcher, Hermione,” grinned Tonks. Hermione had met her the day after she arrived and had instantly taken to the young Auror. She was the badass witch that Hermione could only hope to be, making her admire Tonks and be slightly jealous of her at the same time.

“Ahah! This was what I was looking for!” exclaimed Sirius, he held up a picture of his childhood friends. The four of them had each other’s arms around each other, Sirius, tattoo free and with long black hair tied up, was winking at the camera, while a younger, less scarred Lupin looked at him fondly. Pettigrew was stinking his tongue out, then bursting into laughter. Harry’s dad, James, was laughing, giving the photographer the biggest grin. He looked so happy. Harry looked so much like him, just with different eyes, and a slightly shorter nose. Hermione glanced over at Harry, whose eyes looked glazed over, but his grin was just as wide as his father’s.  
Sirius looked down at the photograph and chuckled, “Wow, what a bunch of arseholes.”

Lupin looked down at the photo and chuckled, “Yes, we were, weren’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drunk Stag, Dog, and Prefect idea was not my own, I saw the general idea in a comic on [Tumblr](https://wingedcorgi.tumblr.com/post/183454989731/if-the-marauders-were-brilliant-enough-to-discuss)


	11. A Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Dramione for y'all. Also, in case you didn't know, this is a SLOW BURN fic, like real real real slow burn. Thanks for all the comments and kudos! They make my day!
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> Disclaimer, this wonderful world all belongs to JK.

She was walking to the library when she saw him. She knew she looked ridiculous; frozen mid step, then spun around to the opposite direction when she heard him call her name.

“Hermione!” Theo screamed, running down the down the corridor.

_Jesus. Can’t he keep it down. People are starting to stare._

It was the first day of classes in the new term. Students who were greeting their friends after weeks apart, were indeed stopping to stare after Theo, who was chasing after a retreating Hermione. Just as she turned the corner, she ducked inside an empty classroom, not wanting to face her sort-of-friend just yet.

There was a thin layer of dust on all the desks. The only light came from a solitary window at the back of the class. In front, there was an old chalk board that had a half written Arthimancy equation on it.

 _“Scourgify.”_ The dust disappeared on the table nearest her, she sat on top of it and held her face in her hands. Being alone for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to become overwhelmed and her eyes filled with tears. Her brain felt it was about to explode after the holidays. Seeing Neville’s parents in St. Mungos brought up a whole new list of fears, her chest ached whenever she thought about her friend. Harry seeing the snake attack Mr. Weasley, _being_ the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley, had frightened and confused her. Ron being his usual oblivious self and not being able to stop herself from falling a bit more in love with him. Theo used her, and she didn’t know if she wanted to forgive him just yet. She wasn’t sure if that was because she was so hurt, or if she was being petty, and wanted him to stew in his wrongdoings for a little while longer. Most likely the latter.

The door creaked open and Hermione quickly wiped her eyes. Looking up, she saw Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway. He stood there, staring at her. She knew that her eyes were bloodshot, but she couldn’t find the energy to be embarrassed.  
“What do you want Malfoy?” her voice sounded stuffy and tired.

He started approaching her, “He didn’t mean it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Theo. He cares for you, for some odd reason. He’s really cut up about what you overheard.”

She sat down again, pulling her feet underneath her. Logically, she knew that she shouldn’t trust him, he was a cruel bully after all. He had been calling her horrible names on a weekly basis since they were twelve years old. But since he heard her verbally vomit all of her insecurities to Theo, he had been silent. There had been opportunities to call her out, to be cruel and unforgiving, but he had simply been ignoring her. It seemed like he was focusing all of his energy onto making Ron and Harry’s lives miserable, he hadn’t been rude to her at all the past few weeks, not so much as even a glance her way. She remembered how he had looked at her; how he had stared into her eyes, shook his head and whispered, “Nothing.”

“Thank you, but I’m not interested,” Hermione said with more confidence then she possessed at the moment.

Malfoy crossed his arms and glared at her, “Yes, you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are interested.”

“That’s awful presumptuous of you.”

Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes, “You have a connection with Theo, as much as it pains me to admit. You understand each other. You both know what it means not to fit in and…” he hesitated, and stared at the ceiling, leaning against a desk across from Hermione, “You know what it means to not to fit in not being able to do anything about it.”

She threw her head back and laughed, loud and long. Malfoy continued to look at the ceiling. She felt her face heat up in embarrassment at the sheer volume of her laughter and the fact that she couldn’t quite stop. A good thirty seconds later, when she finally got control of herself, she gasped, “Seriously? That’s a bit rich coming from you.” She snorted, loudly, and felt her face grow warmer. She started giggling again.

_Oh, my God, why can’t I stop?_

Malfoy glared at her, “If you’re not going to take this seriously-”

Hermione burst out in laughter again, “How am I supposed to this seriously? This is, without a doubt, the strangest interaction I’ve ever had, and Luna Lovegood and I talk on a regular basis.”

Malfoy looked like he was about to smile, but then pulled his eyebrows together over his grey eyes, “I’m trying to be sincere, Granger-”

Hermione snorted loudly. Again. Malfoy looked affronted and shook his head at her, “You’re acting like a child while I am trying to have a civil conversation with you.”

She chuckled and said, “Well, this is our first- I guess, civil conversation, because you never have backed out of an opportunity to humiliate and insult me. So why would I ever listen to you?” She ended with a glare in his direction.

Malfoy lifted his head high, “I’m not going to apologize to you.”

“I’m not asking for an apology from _you_. I doubt it would sincere anyway.”

Hermione could tell Malfoy was getting irritated. He ran his hand through his hair, seemingly mussing it, but it remained perfectly styled.

_Wanker._

“What I’m trying to tell you is that Theo is my friend, and I only want what is good for him,” he said, staring at the floor.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “And you obviously think that I’m the worst thing that has ever happened upon the Wizarding World-”

“I don’t!”

Silence fell between the two, Hermione staring wide eyed at the boy in front of her, whose cheeks were growing steadily red. Malfoy still staring at the floor.

“What do you mean?”

Malfoy ignored her, “Theo loves you. He somehow thinks that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. Hence, I am here. But for no other reason.”

“Are you feeling okay?” she leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees, “Do I need to get Madam Pomfrey?” she asked, feeling almost genuinely concerned.

Malfoy huffed, “No. I’m fine.”  
“Then please explain what is happening. I’m awfully confused. Why are you… Just why?”

He sighed, “It literally pains me to say this, but you both are kindred spirits. You both don’t necessarily fit in. You both have parent issues.”

“I don’t have parent issues,” argued Hermione.

Malfoy stared at her, “I’ve been making fun of you because of your parents, for as long I’ve known you. You have parent issues.”

“Hm. Sure. What did you mean earlier, Malfoy?”  

 “Just drop it would you?” Malfoy yelled, holding his hands out, as if he would very much like to throttle her, “Merlin, you’re so fucking irritating, you do know that right?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, used to this particular insult, “I’m aware.”

Malfoy groaned. It wasn’t often that he lost his temper, he often acted aloof, like he was better than anyone’s insults, usually ending each fight with a glare or threat about his father; but she could see that he was quickly losing control. He was clenching and unclenching his hands rapidly, his eyes closed, breathing deeply from his nose.

Hermione couldn’t resist asking him one more time, “What did you mean earlier?”

Malfoy took another deep breath, in and out, “Jesus, if this is such an inconvenience for you, the door’s over there. You’re not obligated to speak to me, you know,” drawled Hermione.

“I am here to talk about your friendship with Theo because he’s a miserable moody git without you, and I’m getting tired of it.”

“Well, he should have thought of that before he decided to use me to anger his father.”  
Malfoy scoffed and rolled his eyes, “He didn’t use you, Granger. Stop being so dramatic.”

Something flared up inside of Hermione’s chest. The feeling was stronger than the anger she felt for Theo, the ache for Neville, the fear she felt for Harry. She was livid, ready to throw every hex she knew at the pale, blonde, _irritating_ boy with _irritatingly_ perfect hair, that was in front of her.

She fixed him with her deadliest glare, “I am not being dramatic. I was hurt, and justifiably so. Theo is my friend, my good friend, and he lied to me. I am not going to apologize or feel bad because of how he made me feel. And I am going to continue to be angry with him until I see fit to forgive him, if that’s alright with you, Malfoy.” She folded her arms across her chest and blew a stubborn curl out of her eyes.

He sighed, “Couldn’t be bothered, really. I did my part.” He stood up from the desk where he was leaning and started to make his way to the door. Hermione was suddenly very aware of how alone they were.

“Why are you being so nice?”

Malfoy froze in his tracks; she could see the back of his neck start to turn red. Without turning, he said, “I already told you that I didn’t do any of this for you.”

Hermione laughed, feeling quite flustered, “I know you didn’t. It’s just- I know you’re being nice for Theo, but you’re not a nice person. You’re really not. I mean- You’re kind of a git. I have years of emotional scars that prove that you’re a git, but-” she paused, gathering her courage, “What I am trying to say is thanks. I appreciate it.”

Malfoy stood for a moment, facing the door, “You’re welcome, Granger.” His words didn’t come out pained or reluctant, like she expected, but soft and gentle, so close to a whisper.

He left the room with Hermione sitting on a desk in a dusty classroom, feeling more confused and angrier than she had ever felt before.

 

* * *

 

She stared at the headline during her Ancient Runes class, and for the first time in her almost five years at Hogwarts, and ten years in the education system, she couldn’t wait for class to be over.

**_Bellatrix Lestrange: convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom._ **

She hadn’t had the chance to talk to Neville. She wasn’t quite sure if he even wanted to talk. The bell rang, signaling the end of class and she raced over to the courtyard for break. Only a few students, all of whom wore several scarves and thick cloaks, were brave enough to face the bitter cold. In the middle of the courtyard sat Neville, his blonde hair peeking out beneath a red and yellow beanie, one that she had knitted for him for Christmas.

“Nice hat, Nev.”

He jumped at her voice and smiled weakly. She sat down next to him and started rummaging through her bag.

“The essay on _Herbivicus Duo_ Professor Sprout set before the holidays was rather interesting don’t you think?” She pulled _Herbology Today_ out of her bag, “There’s this fascinating article in here about the effects of _Herbivicus Duo_ on more dangerous plant like Fanged Geranium rather than a peaceful plant like a Flutterby Bush. I referenced it in my essay, you should take a look.”

He stared at the magazine she placed in his trembling hands. He looked up at her, with a watery smile, “Thanks Hermione.”

She put her arm around his shoulder, “Come one then, we’re not dressed warmly enough for this weather, let’s go inside.”


	12. Mr. Darcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.

Hermione sat up in her bed, chest heaving, tears streaming down her cheeks. She buried her face in her blanket, a Christmas gift from her mum. She breathed deeply, trying to catch the familiar scent of home.  

Another bloody dream. She saw an expressionless Bellatrix Lestrange torturing Neville’s parents, who then faded into her own parents, who screamed at her, “Why are you just watching? Why are you so ashamed of us? All we did was love you!”

She shivered, her stomach churning.  
After showering and dressing for the day, she sat down in the common room, ready to wait for Ron and Harry. She was sitting down staring into the empty fireplace and thought back to the previous Quidditch game. Harry staring at the match, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed. Ron failing his arms spectacularly, completely missing the Quaffle, and then spent the rest of the evening sulking into a butterbeer. She sighed, not feeling quite ready to spend a morning with a sulking Ron and brooding Harry. She got up and headed towards the library, deciding to forego breakfast, still feeling queasy after her dream.

She spread her half-finished essays, books, quills and pens over her table, neatly organizing everything, her Herbology essay on top.  Guilt filled her as she stared at the ink filled pages. Sighing, she pushed it aside, and grabbed a blank piece of parchment, _Dear Mum and Dad…_

An hour later, she signed her name after four feet of parchment, satisfied yet still feeling guilty. She knew that the letter contained nothing of importance, just informing her parents of the happenings of her school life and included nothing that would worry them. Nothing of Harry’s dreams, the disaster that was the Defense Against the Darks Arts class and/or teacher, her helping form an illegal defense group so that her fellow students would be able to protect themselves from a mad wizard who wants nothing more than to see people like her dead.

_Good God._

She just filled the pages with nonsense about the latest Quidditch game, studying for her OWLs, and gossip she had heard about Prince Charles and Princess Diana divorcing. She folded the parchment, feeling like a terrible and awful daughter, and was about to place it in her bag when a soft voice said, “Good morning.”

She quickly glanced up to see Theo standing over her. His usual confident posture was gone, she had never seen him look so unsure of himself. He almost looked childlike, like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Good morning,” she said stiffly.

“I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

Awkward silence rang over the pair. Hermione shifted through a stack of papers, not looking for anything in particular just trying to avoid an awkward confrontation.

“I bought a copy of _The Quibbler_.”

Hermione winced.

_And this is what I wanted to avoid._

Her epiphany to have Rita Skeeter write an article about what really happened the night of the Third Task seemed genius at the time, definitely one of her top five ideas. But she hadn’t realized until she was sitting in the Three Broomsticks listening to her best friend describe the worst night of his life, that among the Death Eaters he listed was Theodore Nott Sr.

She gulped, “Okay.”

Theo threw a stack of papers onto the table, which Hermione knew was a charmed copy of the latest edition of _The Quibbler_ , “This is absolutely fucking genius.”

Hermione’s neck nearly cracked because of how fast she looked up. Theo looked like a mess, with his black hair sticking up in every direction, looking remarkably like Harry’s she observed with amusement. Dark circles were under his nearly bloodshot eyes, but he had on a smile that stretched from ear to ear. He looked positively mad.

 _We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad._  

She had to stop herself from giggling.

He threw himself down into the chair across from her, with a grace only a Pure Blood Slytherin could possess, “I know that Weasley and Potter don’t have the brains for something like this. This has Hermione Granger written all over it. And for that, I thank you.” He inclined his head towards her.

Hermione stared at him, she hadn’t been expecting this type of reaction, she thought there would be yelling, loads of anger, maybe some tears. His smile faded the longer she looked at him, and he quickly went back to looking unsure, not willing to look her in the eyes. He looked so vulnerable, Hermione had to look away and stared at her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Okay, I have something to say, and I don’t want you to say anything until I’m finished,” he said with force, glaring at the charmed copy of _The Quibbler_ between them. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I truly am. I greatly admire you. I think you’re absolute brilliant, wonderful, beautiful, and all together a fantastic person. I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m going to ask for it, every day if I have to, because since becoming your friend…” he cleared his throat and continued, his voice softer than before, “Since becoming your friend, I’ve become a better person. I’m looking at the world differently I’m-”

He took a deep breath, “I could care less about your blood status, Hermione. I don’t care!” He slammed his fist on the table making Hermione jump. She was glad it was early in the morning; the library was empty besides the two of them.

“Growing up, my father would always tell me that muggles and everything to do with them, were filth. He said that they ought to be punished or, depending on how much he had been drinking, disposed of,” he said with such distain, that it made Hermione look up from her lap.

He cleared his throat, and continued, louder than before, “But I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that muggles are worthless. I don’t believe that Muggle Borns should be ostracized from the Wizarding World,” he reached over the table and took her hand squeezing it, “You’re more magical than most full-grown pureblood witches and wizards. You _are_ magic, Hermione.”

She felt her eyes sting. She pulled her hand away from Theo and stared at her books and papers laid out before her.

“I know you’re not like your father,” she said softly, “But you still- You still hurt me. You hurt me and I’m – I’m done! I’m done with people walking all over me and then expecting _me_ to apologize!”

Theo shook his head, “I’m not telling you to do anything. You have the right to be cross at me for the rest of your life. I’m just telling you how sorry I am.”

They sat in silence, Hermione could feel Theo’s eyes on her, but she continued to stare at the table, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m reading _Pride and Prejudice_ for the third time now.”

Hermione blinked; she had forgotten that she had lend him her mother’s old book. That moment of peace they shared seemed like a lifetime ago.

He continued, “That book… it makes me feel, you know?  When Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth for the first time, and she bitterly rejects him, and that wonderful letter, and when Bingley finally proposes to Jane, oh Merlin, I cry every time. I was reading it through for the second time when Draco walked in, and there I am, in my pajamas, sobbing hysterically, holding the book to my chest, all the while muttering incoherently about how Mr. Darcy is an arse but he still gets the girl and how Bingley and Jane are so absolutely perfect for one another it makes my heart ache-”

Hermione couldn’t help the laugh that was crawling up her throat, just imagining the look of horror on Malfoy’s face.

Theo smiled hesitantly, “My point of this, is that Mr. Darcy still gets Elizabeth, even though he was the biggest arsehole, because he proved himself,” he looked into her eyes, “Please, let me prove myself. I am not the awful, self-absorbed Slytherin you think I am. Well... I am pretty self-absorbed and a Slytherin… but that’s beside the point. Please, just let me prove it to you.”

Silence stretched between the two of them, until Hermione couldn’t take it any longer, “Why? I’m a brat, you know. I am controlling and bossy. I am a perfectionist, to a fault. I am way too emotional, and I take things too seriously. I don’t understand social cues most of the time because until I was twelve years old, the only friends I had were in the books I read. Then I became friends with two boys who are just as hopeless as I am. I fight with Ron constantly. I nag at Harry,” she took a deep breath, throwing her hands in the air, “I don’t know how to be a friend! So why are you so persistent to be friends with _me_?”

“Because of all of that!” sputter Theo, “You’re Hermione. All of that- it’s just you. Controlling, bossy, awkward, all of that is just- You. All of your faults and… all of it! It’s you!”

They locked eyes. Theo looked hopeful. Hermione was just confused. She wanted to be mad, she so wanted to be angry at Theo, but she was so tired of being angry.

“Did you really read it three times?”

Theo nodded, “It’s brilliant.”

“What did Malfoy’s face look like?”

Theo smiled, that huge Theo grin she had missed so much it made her heart ache, “Absolutely mortified. He had no idea what to do with himself. He had just returned from Christmas and was expecting a nice empty dorm, but he got me instead, having a complete mental breakdown over a love affair between two fictional characters.”

Hermione laughed, leaning back in her chair. She jutted her chin out, “I’m still mad at you.”

Theo nodded gravely, “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

“How did you find time to read it three times? I’m up to my eyes in essays and school books.”

Theo flushed slightly, “I might have missed a few nights sleep, and I probably should have been studying, but I couldn’t seem to put it down.”

She grinned and leaned forward, “It’s wonderful isn’t it? Makes you want a Mr. Darcy for yourself.”

Theo winced, “I’m a bit more particular to Bingley, myself. Mr. Darcy was kind of a dick most of the book.”  

“I don’t know,” Hermione mused, “I think it’s romantic that he recognized his faults and absolved to change them in order to prove he deserved Elizabeth. Plus, a lot of their troubles was just a misunderstanding.”

Theo hummed, then suddenly his face paled, eyes wide, the size of Galleons, “I didn’t- I mean- I didn’t mean that _I_ would be your Mr. Darcy- It’s just that- I meant as your friend, just your friend. You’re wonderful and beautiful but I am not attracted to you in that way and-”

Hermione took pity on him and patted his arm, “I know that, Theo. Besides, I’m more attracted to red-heads who possess more dickish qualities than Mr. Darcy.”

Theo threw his head back and laughed, long and loud. That Theo Nott laugh that made her want to grin and join in.

 

* * *

 

“Nott!”

Hermione and Theo were just leaving their Ancient Runes class. They turned in unison to see Malfoy walking towards them, Blaise Zabini by his side. She was drawn back to their latest and strangest conversation, his soft eyes and _almost_ kind words. As confusing as that was, all those feelings were definitely long gone. She had never seen him look so angry. No, he looked furious, ready to hex anyone to bits if they so much looked at him funny. His normally stupid perfect hair was wavy, almost to the point of curly. It made Hermione want to laugh out loud. He had been making fun of her unruly hair for years, but underneath all the gel and charms, his hair was just as much of a mess as hers was.

“Malfoy. Blaise. Can I help you?” Theo asked politely, warily eyeing Zabini.  

Malfoy huffed and glared at the pair, “Why are you with _her_?”

 _God, Malfoy. Pick a fucking side. You’re giving me whiplash._  

“Are you aware that her precious Potter accused your father, in front of the whole wizarding world, of being a death eater? And it was most likely her idea. Merlin knows that Potter and Weasel don’t have the brains.”

 _Very nice backhanded compliment. Well done._  

Theo rolled his eyes, “I can’t exactly argue with him, as he was just telling the truth.”  
Blaise snorted, surprising Hermione.

Theo’s cheeks turned bright red, “Well, I’m off to lunch. Were you still going to help me with that Potions essay? Excellent,” he grinned widely, “I will see you this evening in the common room.”  
Theo grabbed Hermione by the elbow, spinning them around, leaving behind a stunned Malfoy and a wide eyed Zabini. As soon as they rounded the corner, they both broke into giggles, leaning on each other.

“Oh, my God. Did you see his face?”

Theo nodded, his cheeks still red, “I think I gave him an aneurysm. Did you see that vein pop out in his forehead?”

They both collapsed into giggles again, making their way down to the Great Hall. Theo sat at the Gryffindor table that day, drawing the attention of the entire school. Even Professor McGonagall was looking down at them. She couldn’t tell if her professor looked confused or disappointed. Possibly a mixture of both. But none of that mattered, because Theo was sitting across from her, eating his sandwich with such impeccable table manners it made her feel self-conscious and they were finally talking again, and everything was right in the world.

 

* * *

 

 _Okay, happy thoughts. Picnic on the lake with Theo. The First Hogsmeade visit with Ron. First year, getting an O on my first assignment in Transfiguration. Mum baking biscuits and having parties in the backyard. Professor McGonagall showing up on our doorstep, giving me my Hogwarts acceptance letter._  

Hermione’s eyes were shut tight, thinking of all of her happiest memories. Focusing on the moment she was told that she was witch, she whispered, “Expecto Patronum.”

So far, she had only been able to produce puffs of silver vapor, but the smoke gathered together to form an otter, who whipped around the classroom, swimming over her classmates’ heads.

“Excellent Hermione!” Harry yelled from the back of the room. He had a huge grin on his face at Hermione gladly returned. He looked so carefree. So happy. Everyone yelled and clapped; she took a theatrical bow, making Theo laugh beside her.

“What was your memory?”

Hermione looked down from her Patronus, which was circling over her head, “My Hogwarts Letter. When Professor McGonagall told me that I was a witch.” She laughed softly, “Mum was so offended. It isn’t exactly the nicest thing to call someone in the Muggle world. Witches are in Muggle children stories and they’re always evil, they have green skin, a hooked nose and warts all over.”

Theo hummed, “So basically, they’re like Snape.”

Hermione gasped and slapped Theo on the arm. She heard Seamus yelling across the room, “Harry, I think I’m going it! Look- ah- it’s gone... but it was definitely something hairy, Harry!”  

“What are you thinking of?”

Theo paused, holding his wand in the air, his cheeks flushed, “Well, I-”

There was a loud slap. Dobby was standing unsteadily next to Harry, eight hats stacked on top of his head. Hermione narrowed her eyes, “Are those my-?”

“Who’s ‘she’, Dobby?” Harry asked, kneeling in front of the house-elf.

 _Oh, God. Oh, no._  

Her Patronus dissolved into nothingness.

“Umbridge?” asked Harry, horrified.

Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head on Harry’s knees, but Harry wrapped his hands around his shoulders, holding him in place.  

“What about her? Dobby- she hasn’t found out about this- about us- about the DA?”

Dobby looked up at Harry, his eyes wide with terror, struggling against Harry.

“Is she coming?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes, Harry Potter, yes!” howled Dobby.

The room was deathly quiet. Dobby’s whimpering was echoing on the walls. Hermione grabbed Theo’s arm.

“What are you waiting for?! Run!” yelled Harry.

Everyone rushed towards the door, still quiet, the only sounds were the scuffing of feet against the ground. When they burst out of the room, Hermione, still grasping Theo’s arm, pulled him towards the staircase and headed downstairs. They still had time before curfew. If they could just get to the library or an empty classroom, everything would be alright. She looked behind her, expecting Harry or Ron to be following, but she didn’t even see Harry exit the room and saw a blur of red fly up the stairs. She wasn’t sure if it was one of the twins or Ron. She gripped Theo’s arms tighter and started running, skipping the last five steps and jumping down. They exited on the fifth floor, Hermione leading Theo towards the Prefect’s bathroom.  

_Almost there. Almost there._

“Myrica gale!” gasped Hermione to the statue of Boris the Bewildered, who leaped aside to reveal a door. After scrambling inside, Hermione shut the door, pressing her forehead against the cool wood, breathing hard.

She turned towards Theo, who was breathing just as fast, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. His shoulders were shaking and for a horrible moment, Hermione thought he was crying.

“Theo, are you okay?”

He looked up at her, face bright red, sweat glistening on his forehead, a huge smile on his face, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“Merlin, that was freeing.”

Hermione looked at him incredulously, “Are you mad?”

Theo gasped for breath and let out long, loud belt of laughter, “That was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Hermione huffed, “If you hang around Harry long enough, this type of thing becomes normal.”

Theo laughed even harder. Hermione crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, smiling slightly.

In between peals of laughter, Theo gasped, “If anyone asks why we’re out of breath, we can just say we were snogging.”

Hermione let out a dry laugh, “God, Theo. That’s not funny. We are in so much trouble. We could be expelled. Oh, God. We could be expelled. Harry and Ron! If they’re caught, Mrs. Weasley is going to murder them. She told us it was a bad idea, she said-”

“Okay, Granger, relax. Everyone’s going to be fine. I’m sure Potter and Weasley got away, Harry runs surprising fast for someone of his height. Let’s head out okay?”

He opened the door and poked his head out, looking back and forth.

“Coast is clear, let’s go to the library, I need to check out a book for Herbology.”

They made it to the third floor when a seventh-year prefect walking by, reminded them that curfew was only ten minutes away.

“What are you two doing out this close to curfew anyway?”

Theo shrugged, “Snogging.”

Hermione blushed up to the roots of her hair and Theo laughed so loud it echoed in the stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. It makes my day.


	13. Umbridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry this took so long, but I was sick, then my daughter was sick and then I didn't like how I was approaching the story, so I changed it all, then changed it again, then again, and then I went back to my original story line. Figures. As an apology, here's my longest chapter yet. Happy Reading! 
> 
> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.
> 
> *This chapter was brought to you by iced coffee, Oreos and "The Music of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child" by Imogen Heap (If you haven't listened to this, please check it out, it's beautiful)*

“Miss Granger, your grades are impeccable, as always,” Professor McGonagall was shifting through papers on her desk, glancing up at Hermione, who politely sipped tea.

“Thanks to the wide arrange of classes you are taking; a wide range of job opportunities are available to you. Is there a particular career you had in mind?”

Hermione looked into her tea, it was a lovely cream color, “I had several ideas in mind, Professor. Last- last year I started a group called S.P.E.W.”

Professor McGonagall nodded.

“I know it’s very controversial, but I would love to expand and develop it more. And not just for House Elves, but for other magical beings as well. Equal rights and opportunities for everyone. I can’t believe how badly Professor Lupin was treated once everyone knew he was a werewolf. He’s still a human, he still has feelings and a personality, it seems so unbelievable that people are capable of treating another person that way. Elves, Goblins, werewolves, and even the centaurs! I have been talking to Hagrid about centaur politics since my second year because there is not one book out there that bothers to explain. There is huge herd of them in the forest, and there is nothing available to educate us about our neighbors! And literature concerning werewolves is absolutely appalling! _Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don’t Deserve to Live_ is the most popular book about werewolves, not _Hairy Snout: Human Heart_ , which is far more accurate and was actually written in this century.” Hermione was breathing hard by the time she finished.

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and looked up from the neatly stacked papers on her desk, “It is very controversial, especially nowadays. I would recommend looking into the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but this would be an extremely long and difficult process, I hope you know that.”   
Hermione looked back at her cup of tea, “I just want to make a change. I don’t think that anyone should be encouraged to feel uncomfortable in their own skin.”

Silence stretched between the two. The professor’s eyes were narrowed and piercing, making Hermione feel extremely vulnerable and uncomfortable.

“You are an excellent writer. Perhaps an internship with the Prophet would interest you. You could publish articles about-”

“I am _not_ going to work for the Daily Prophet,” spat Hermione. She immediately flushed, “Sorry, Professor. I just have no desire to work anywhere that thought it was a wise idea to hire Rita Skeeter.”

McGonagall’s lip twitched and she hummed, gathering leaflets on her desk, “Please take a look at these. There are several divisions within the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to choose from, including the Goblin Liaison Office. If this is something of interest.”   
Hermione took the pamphlets, a knot forming in her stomach. This was all extremely overwhelming. It seemed absolutely ridiculous that she should be making these decisions at sixteen, picking a career that could possibly change the entire outcome of her life.  “Thank you, Professor.” She placed her empty cup on the desk in front of her and started making her way towards the door.

“Miss Granger, you are one of the brightest witches I have ever had the privilege to teach but I am not going to lie to you, this is going to be a difficult road for you if you choose to pursue this.” Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses. She looked tired, exhausted to her very core. Hermione realized, her stomach churning, that this wasn’t the professor’s first war. This wasn’t the first wave of students she had ushered out into the real world, into the great unknown. How many muggle-born students had she encouraged to follow their dreams, reach for the stars, told them that with hard work and a good heart they could accomplish anything they set their minds to? And how many of them had been caught up in a war instead?

Hermione tried to smile but knew that it must look like she was in pain, “Thank you Professor. Thank you for your time.”

 

* * *

 

They were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, Hermione was Ron and Harry were sitting on either side, with Dean and Seamus across from them.

The sky was a clear blue, with no clouds, it was finally starting to get warmer. Everything was going as smoothly as possible. She had finished her last exam of the week yesterday and now she had a whole weekend to study for the remaining exams: Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Arithmancy, and History of Magic.

_God, that’s a lot of exams._  

And she hadn’t cried once. At least, where Ron and Harry could see her. She embarrassedly recalled two nights ago, when Lavender and Parvati walked into the dormitory to find Hermione sobbing hysterically into her Ancient Runes book because she had mistranslated a Rune and that obviously meant that she was going to fail every exam in every subject. The two witches looked at each other exasperatedly, trying to decide as to who was going to deal with the mess that was Hermione Granger. In the end, both girls joined her on her bed, Lavender pulling her hair into a long plait down her back and Parvati painting her toenails a deep red.

“Good morning all! Lovely day!” Ginny hopped down next to Dean, their shoulders brushing, before awkwardly breaking apart. Dean glanced over at Ginny and gave her a small smile. Her cheeks flushed to a rosy red and offered Dean a bright smile in return.

_Hmmm. Interesting._

Ginny received a grumble of replies, with only Dean forming actual words, “Mornin’.”

“Merlin, what a lovely bunch. Is this what I have to look forward to next year?” Ginny asked as she poured herself a cup of tea.

Another chorus of grumbles. Ron looked as though he was either about pass out or be sick into his pate full of eggs and sausages.

With a flutter of wings, an owl landed in front of Hermione, delivering that morning’s paper. Placing a knut in the bag on the owl’s leg, she fed it a piece of bacon off of her plate. Spreading the paper over the table, she almost felt relieved to be reading something that wasn’t a textbook, but that feeling quickly dissolved when she saw a photograph of Minister Fudge, smiling and waving to a crowd underneath large letters saying, “All is well.”

She scoffed and folded the paper in half, placing it in the middle of the table.

_It’s too early in the morning for this._  

“Can I have a look at that?” Dean asked, grabbing the Prophet before Hermione had the chance to respond. She watched his face grow steadily darker as he read. By the time he was half way through the paper, his face was a deep red, his eyes watery and his breath uneven.

“’All is Well?’ All is well my arse. Here’s the Minister saying that nothing is amiss. Like You-Know-Who didn’t just break out his most loyal Death Eaters. It’s all going to shit isn’t it? And nobody is paying attention and there’s not a fucking thing we can do about it.”

Hermione looked up from her plate. Dean hastily folded the paper, throwing it onto the table with an ugly sneer on his face. He had always been so even-tempered and kind; it was a strange look on him.

The only sound between them was Dean’s breathing, even Ron had put down his fork and stared at him. Harry spoke up, “We can stand up for what’s right. We can stand against the bigotry-”

“Oh please! I would just be standing up for myself, wouldn’t I? I would just be standing up for my own goddamn rights while everyone else is telling me that I have nothing to worry about, that I shouldn’t be worried sick for my family, for my own life.” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward, “Hermione, Harry, in primary, when the other kids made fun of you for the color of your skin, did standing up for yourself ever make a difference? Did that miraculously make them change their minds? Did that make them stop being racist?”

When they didn’t reply, he said, “No, it didn’t.”

“We are learning to defend ourselves. We’re-”

“Yeah, we _were_. We were forced to stop, and in the process, helped put that bitch in the Headmaster’s chair.”

Together, their eyes turned to the staff table, where Umbridge was sitting in Professor Dumbledore’s chair, gazing down at the tables with a look of superiority. She quickly looked in the Gryffindor’s direction and they all looked down at their plates.

“We can’t let them rules our lives,” Hermione whispered.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not letting them, but they’re doing it anyways, aren’t they?”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione duked underneath the cloak with Harry. She put what she hoped was a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She her heart was beating hard, she felt bile build up in her throat as they walked towards Umbridge’s office.

They passed Ginny, who was redirecting students around the hall, “Good one, Gin. Don’t forget the signal…” whispered Hermione. Ginny nodded.

“What’s the signal?” muttered Harry.

“A loud chorus of ‘Weasley Is Our King’ if they see Umbridge coming,” replied Hermione. She glanced around them, making sure no one was around to see Harry’s disembodied hand unlock Umbridge’s door with the blade Sirius had gifted him for Christmas. Once they had entered the office, Harry threw the cloak off o them and ran straight for the fireplace. She settled herself between the door and the window, wand drawn.

Harry placed his head in the fireplace, threw Floo powder, and cried, “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!” The green flames twisted and swirled, making Hermione’s head spin. She rolled her eyes and not for the first time, Hermione marveled at how medieval Wizarding communication was.

Harry had collapsed in the middle of the Great Hall, twitching, screaming, his forehead surrounding his scar, an angry red. He was absolutely certain that Voldemort was torturing Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. He had a nightmare. It was extremely unlikely that Voldemort and Sirius were at the Ministry. Sirius was a wanted man for God’s sake! And Voldemort, he had been lying low all year, it didn’t make any sense for him to break into the Ministry. It just didn’t make any sense. But Harry was determined. He said it wasn’t a normal dream. That terrified her more than the possibility of Voldemort roaming about the Ministry. Voldemort was inside her best friend’s head and there was nothing she could do about it. 

She turned away and stared out at the grounds, watching the sun slowly lower onto the horizon. Students were roaming the grounds, soaking up the last bit of sun, celebrating the end of yet another school year.

The door clicked open.

“ _Expelliarmus!”_

Hermione cursed under her breath, berating herself for getting lost in her own thoughts. Her wand flew towards triumphant looking Umbridge. She let out a girlish giggle that curdled Hermione’s insides. She felt bile come up her throat again, her stomach churning.

_Oh God. This is bad. This is really, really bad._  

Hermione went to yell at Harry but, Umbridge pointed her wand at Harry back, smiled sickly at her and shook her head. Millicent Bulstrode walked in behind the Professor, grabbed Hermione’s wrists with a painful grip and pushed them against the wall.

Umbridge had grabbed Harry by his hair and pulled him away from the fireplace, she was sneering at him, yelling at him, throwing him against her desk, but Hermione couldn’t process what she was saying because in walked in Ginny, Luna, Ron, Neville and, surprising, Theo.

_How the hell did you get wrapped up in this?_

Malfoy leaned against the window next to her, throwing Harry’s wand in the air, with a loose grip on Theo’s arm. He looked remarkably bored. Theo was glancing at her, switching from glaring at her, to looking concerned at the tight grip Bulstrode had on her wrists.

Her friends had been gagged; Neville was steadily growing purple in Crabbe’s hold. Warrington had pushed Ron towards the middle of the room, his lip was dripping blood on the carpet.

_Think, Granger. Think._  

“Good, good,” said Umbridge, watching Ginny struggle against the larger Slytherin girl’s hold, “Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn’t it?”

_Think, think! How are we going to get out of this?_

Hermione stopped struggling against Bulstrode and closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears of fury and terror from filling her eyes.

“So, Potter,” Umbridge continued, “You stationed lookouts around my office and sent this buffoon,” she nodded at Ron, “to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes – Mr. Filch having just informed me so.”

_Come on, think Hermione. You’re going to have to lie. You’re going to have to come up with a brilliant lie. Think._

“Clearly, it was important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone.”

The Slytherins seemed to think that was terribly clever, as they laughed, Hermione saw that Harry’s hands were shaking with rage, his bright green eyes narrowed, and he gave Umbridge a look of the deepest disgust. Malfoy didn’t join in the laughter, she noticed, the tip of his ears glowed pink, he still had a hand on Theo’s arm. Hermione couldn’t figure out if Theo was a prisoner like the rest of them, or if he had joined the Inquisitorial Squad. The latter seem extremely unlikely due to the rant she had sat through just a few days prior, after Umbridge had attacked Hagrid and sent Professor McGonagall to St. Mungo’s. He had paced the length of the Transfiguration section in the library, calling Umbridge quite a view choice names that left Hermione blushing and looking around to see if Theo was poisoning the ears of any first years.

“It’s none of your business who I talk to,” Harry snarled.

Umbridge’s smile tightened, “Very well. Very well, Potter. I offered you a chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco – fetch Professor Snape.”

Hermione sniffled a gasp, how could she be so stupid? Another member of the Order of the Phoenix was in the castle with them the entire time. Granted, Professor Snape would never be their first option, but anything, literally anything, would be better than this. She started running scenarios through her head, trying to come up with a way to tell Snape what was happening without tipping off Umbridge. She looked around the room, for anything that could assist her, and caught Theo’s eye. He widened his eyes and shook his head slightly. Hermione glared back and went back to observing her surroundings. Theo cleared his throat making her look up again, he shook his head violently at her. She ignored him. 

“You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” said Snape, as he entered the room, barely glancing at anyone in the room, besides Harry, who was still pushed against Umbridge’s desk. Malfoy took his place besides Theo and whispered in his ear.

Hermione was thinking frantically but was unable to come up with a way to convey a message to Snape. She inwardly appalled for Harry when he yelled, “He’s got Padfoot! He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”

_Step one down. Possibly. Would Snape know of Padfoot? Please, please, please._

 “I have no idea. Potter when I want nonsense shouted at me, I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if you ever apply for a job,” Snape said.

_No. No. Okay, we need to remove Umbridge from the room, remove her from the situation, and then maybe I’ll be able to think._

“You are forcing me, Potter… I do not want to,” said Umbridge, moving restlessly on the spot, ‘but sometimes circumstances justify the use… I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice…”

The silence in the room was overbearing. “The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue.”

“No!” Hermione shrieked, “Professor Umbridge. It’s illegal.”

She felt Malfoy shift next to her, “Is that necessary Professor?”

Everyone turned and stared at the blonde Slytherin with an assortment of expressions: amazement, awe, curiosity, confusion. 

He cleared his throat, “I’m sure the Minister wouldn’t be pleased.”

Umbridge was pointing her wand to different parts of Harry’s body. Harry was growing steadily paler, eyeing the wand as she settled for his forehead.

“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Umbridge, “He never knew I ordered dementors to go after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same.”

“It was you?” gasped Harry, “You sent the dementors after me?”

“Somebody had to act…” Hermione was looking at Umbridge in terror. This was what her nightmares were made up, her friends being tortured, her being forced to watch, unable to do anything but cry with them. A fierce wave of anger rose up in her.

“No!” she shouted, “No – Harry – we’ll have to tell her!” A plan was forming in her mind, a swiftly put together plan, mind you. Normally, she would have liked to write it out, form a pros and cons list but, normally, one of her best friends was not being threatened with an Unforgiveable.   
“No way!”

“We’ll have to, Harry, she’ll force it out of you anyway, what’s… what’s the point?”

She let out a dry sob, throwing her head on Bulstrode’s back, who quickly dropped her in disgust. Hermione’s body collapsed to the ground dramatically. She placed her head in her hands and tried to summon tears to her eyes. The terror of the day, exhaustion from the exams and thinking of the nightmares that have haunted her for the past year, made the tears come quickly.

Everyone was yelling at her, Umbridge looking down at her gleefully, her friends stared at her in amazement.

“I’m sorry everyone,” she sobbed, “But I can’t stand it-”

Umbridge grabbed her by the back of her robes and threw her into a chair, “Now then… with whom was Potter communicating just now?”

Hermione hiccupped, feeling disgusted at the gleeful look in the Professor’s eyes.

“Well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore,” she whispered.

Everyone froze. Umbridge looked like a toddler in a candy store.

“Dumbledore? You know where Dumbledore is, then?”

“Well… no! We’ve tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hog’s Head-”

“Idiot girl– Dumbledore won’t be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry’s looking for him!’ shouted Umbridge.

_Obviously._  

The tears were streaming down her face now, she wanted nothing more than to fool this idiot woman. She had never felt more hate for a person than the woman in front of her. She spun a story for Umbridge, telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. She gasped, she stuttered, she let the tears fall down her face, snot dripped from her nose. She looked a mess, but Umbridge believed every word, and without question followed Hermione and Harry straight to the forest.

 

* * *

 

 

_It was a trap. It was a trap. Dammit, it was all a trap._

Glass was raining down all around them. Harry’s hands were clenched around her robes, practically dragging her. Theo running alongside her, his face pale, eyes wide.

_Oh, Theo. Brave, brave, wonderful Theo._

He had stood by her side when Harry and Hermione had emerged from the forest, covered in blood. He had wiped his hands over her cheeks, trying to remove the blood and dirt. “What were you thinking, you crazy Gryffindor?” When the thestrals had gathered around Harry and herself, licking the blood of their robes, Theo determinately approached one and jumped atop of it. When everyone looked at him in surprise, he said, “Look, I don’t exactly know why You-Know-Who’s torturing Sirius Black or better yet, why you’re so determined to rescue this mass murder, but I’m part of the DA too, and if you think I’m not going to help you, you all are insane. So, I’m coming too.”

A hand grabbed the back of Harry’s robes, slowing him down. Without a second thought, she turned her wand towards the Death Eater and yelled, “Stupefy!”

She saw Nott Sr. raise his eyebrows in surprise and collapse to the ground in a burst of red light.

Still running, she looked over at Theo, who didn’t seem to notice that Hermione had stunned his father and left him to possibly be crushed by falling glass orbs.

The look on Theo’s face when his father removed his mask, demanding him in a cold voice to leave his friends and stand amongst the Death Eaters, was permanently etched onto her mind. How he blinked away tears, grabbed Hermione’s hand, stood his ground and proudly stated that he was going to stay with his friends. How he looked at his father in terror when he had offered up his own son to torture in order to get ahold of the Prophecy. How he had looked when his friends formed a circle around him, wands raised, Harry practically spitting at the Nott Sr, “Like hell. He’s one of us. You’re not touching him.”

Harry released her and turned the group to the right. Neville starting to slow and was breathing hard. Hermione grabbed his hand and started pulling him, “Come on, Nev.”

Harry lead them to the room with bell jar, opened the door for them, and slammed it shut once they are through.

“Colloportus!” gasped Hermione, sealing the door shut with a squelching noise.

“Where- where are the others?” asked Harry looking around. Neville was panting, leaning forward on his knees. Theo was paler than ever and looked as if he was about to be sick. But Ron, Luna and Ginny are nowhere to be found.

“They must have gone the wrong way,” whispered Hermione, terror creeping into her voice.

_Calm down. They’re fine. They’re very capable and intelligent. They’re fine. Calm down._

“Listen!” whispered Neville.

Leaning against the door she heard Lucius Malfoy’s voice, loud and angry, “Leave, Nott, leave him, I say, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott’s injuries as much as losing that prophecy – Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We’ll split into pairs and search, and don’t forget, be gently with Potter until we’ve got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary – Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right – Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead – Macnair and Avery, through here – Rockwood, over here – Mulciber, come with me!”

“What do we do?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry, trying to stop herself from trembling.

“Well, we don’t stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start,” said Harry, “Let’s get away from this door.”

Hermione grabbed Theo’s hand and ran to the back of the room, past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was hatching and unhatching; towards the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room.

_Thud._

They all paused, looking behind them at the door Hermione had charmed shut.

“Stand aside! Alohomora!”

The door flew open, and Harry, Hermione, Theo and Neville flew in opposite directions, hiding underneath the desks.

“They might’ve run straight through to the hall.”

“Check under the desks.”

Hermione saw the Death Eater closest to Harry bend down and Harry’s voice rang out, “Stupefy!”

The masked man fell backward into a grandfather clock and knocked it over. Hermione was crawling underneath the desks and emerged in order to stun the other Death Eater, who had leapt aside to avoid Harry’s spell. But he saw her. She looked into his cold blue eyes while he lifted his wand towards her.

“Avada-”

With a yell, Harry launched himself forward to grab him by the knees but before he reached him, Theo threw himself forward with surprising speed and punched the Death Eater right on the ear. He fell on his back and Theo threw himself on top of him, punching him under his jaw. The Death Eater groaned and tried to raise his wand, but Theo snatched it and broke it over his knee with a _snap_. Theo then pulled back the Death Eater’s mask and punched him in the face.

“Not her.” Punch. “Not her.” Punch. “You bastard.” Punch.

Harry and Neville looked at each other uneasily. Hermione rose to her feet, feeling unsteady.   
“Theo, come on. We’ve got to go.” Theo stopped hitting him and spat in the Death Eater’s face.

“Stupefy,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at the prone figure on the floor.

Theo was breathing hard, straddling the Death Eater, his knuckles coated in blood.

“Please, Theo. We need to go.” She held up a trembling hand to him and he took it. After she pulled him to his feet, she looked down at her hand, now covered in the Death Eater’s blood.

_Now is not the time to freak out. You’ll have plenty of time to do that later. Now, we need to find the others and get the hell out of here._  

“We’ve got to find Ron, Ginny and Luna. Then we’ll get out of here,” Harry’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the glass orb. He several cuts on his face, but particularly large one on his scalp was dripping blood down the side of his face.  

Hermione, Theo, and Neville nodded.

There was a shout from a room nearby, then a crash and a scream.

“Ron?” Harry yelled, “Ginny? Luna?”

“Harry! Shut up!” whispered Hermione. There were echoing footsteps out in the Hall of Prophecy that were now headed towards them.

_Oh, you idiot, Harry Potter._  

“Come one!” Harry said and took off for the door that stood ajar at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway. They had run halfway toward it when they saw two more Death Eaters running across the black room toward them. Veering left, Harry burst into a small, dark cluttered office and slammed the door shut behind them.

Hermione lifted her wand, “Collo-” but the door had burst open again and the two Death Eaters had come hurtling inside. With a cry of triumph, both yelled, “Impedimenta!”

It had all happened so fast; they didn’t even have time to scream. Harry, Hermione, Theo and Neville were all knocked backward off their feet. Hermione was thrown into a bookshelf, knocking several large and heavy volumes onto her head and shoulders with a burst of pain.

“We’ve got him! In an office off-”

“Silencio!” cried Hermione, hoping, praying that no one had heard his yells.

The second Death Eater raised his wand, but Harry was faster and yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” He fell at Harry feet, eyes wide and angry but unable to move at all.

Hermione sighed, “Well done Har-”

The silenced Death Eater raised his wand at Hermione, making a sudden slashing moment, throwing a purple flame in her direction. Her chest, already felt constricted with all the running, suddenly felt tight and uncomfortable. The feeling quickly rose from her chest to her neck, and then to her head, feeling dizzy and uneven on her feet. She distantly heard Theo and Harry yelling.   
“Oh,” Hermione whispered before she collapsed at Harry’s feet. 


	14. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Hope y'all are having a wonderful Monday! 
> 
> Summer Part 2 will up sometime this week and then we are on to Year Six, where things will REALLY start to change up from cannon.

**Chapter 14 – The Burrow**

 

The sun was peeking out over the mountain tops. Another day was dawning, and Hermione was in a tremendous amount of pain.

Harry had come to see her the night before. That was the second time she had seen him cry, tears running down his cheeks, his eyes bloodshot. The first time he was clutching Cedric’s dead body and the second time, last night, he was holding her hand so tight her finger tips turned a dark red. He was whispering to her, “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

It was his fault. He hadn’t listened to her; he hadn’t listened to reason. She wanted to yell at him, pull up her shirt and show him the dark purple stain on her side that looked so much like the ink blots she got on her hands after writing long essays. She wanted to tell him how it hurt to breath. Oh, how she wanted to, but the poor kid had just lost the one adult he had loved and trusted more than anybody.

Sirius was dead. Gone. Were they going to end every school year with a death from now on? A death that would drastically change everything, a death that would damage Harry beyond repair.

_Probably._

Hermione sighed and held her wrist up to her face, inspecting her watch. It had been damaged in the Department of Mysteries. The hour hand was permanently stuck at 1 o’clock, whilst the minute hand went around and around the face, despite the damage done to the other hand. It had been a gift from her parents. Oh, her parents. She wondered if the school would send a letter to them, explaining how she had spent Friday evening breaking into the Ministry of Magic, causing a tremendous amount of damage to priceless and irreplaceable objects, and then received a potentially life-threatening injury from a terrorist against the magical world.

She groaned and ran her hands through her hair, massaging her scalp.

“Are you awake ‘Mione?” Ron whispered from the bed next to hers.

Hermione paused before answering, “Yeah.”

“It’s hard to sleep in here isn’t it? It’s so bright.”

Hermione hummed.

She could hear him breathing, unsteadily, as if he were trying to catch his breath.

“I was thinking, Nott has nowhere to go this summer, does he?”  

Rubbing her temples, Hermione replied, “I’m not sure. He said he had a great aunt on his mum’s side that he might have to go live with.”

She wasn’t sure why he was asking her; she had heard him talking with Theo about this yesterday.

“Right. Hasn’t even met her, has he?”

It was odd talking to him like this, he was on her right, lying down, in his too short pajamas. Despite the curtain separating them, it felt intimate. She had never shared a sunrise with him before.

“I might mention it to mum. That he has no place to go. It’s been a while since she added a non-redhead to the Weasleys.”

Hermione would have sat up abruptly if it weren’t for the pain in her side, “What?”

“Well, she’s a bit keen on him. Ginny and me were hurt and he stayed back-”

“Ginny and I,” muttered Hermione.

“What?”

“You said Ginny and me, but it’s actually Ginny and I. When it’s the subject of the sentence-”

“Seriously Hermione?” snapped Ron, “I’m reaching out to _your_ Slytherin friend and you’re correcting my fucking grammar?”

Hermione glared in his direction, glad for the curtains separating them and said, “Sorry,” despite not feeling sorry in the slightest.

Ron huffed, “Ginny _and I_ were hurt, and he stayed back with us. He made a splint or something for Ginny and he tried to get those bloody brains off of me. So, according to mum, he saved our lives, so she’s practically ready to adopt him…”

_Theo saved my life. Actually, saved me from the killing spell._    
She thought of those blue eyes behind the mask and Theo’s knuckles coated in blood, the silence in the air when she grabbed his hand. She shuttered.

“… I think she’ll do it. I’m not the biggest fan of him, but I guess he’s alright. And he’s got a shitty dad, who we helped send to Azkaban, so I feel like we might owe him… Or he owes us if you really think about it… Whatever. He still needs a place this summer and even the Burrow would be more welcoming than an old aunt he’s never met. He can stay in Bill’s or Percy’s old room.”

Hermione smiled, “I think that sounds lovely, Ron. That’s very kind of you.”

She heard him shuffle in his sheets, “No problem, ‘Mione. He’s not all bad.”

Hermione chuckled, “Just a Slytherin.”

Ron laughed, “Yeah, just a Slytherin.”

The sun was shining brightly throughout the Hospital Wing now, making it almost six o’clock. She knew that Madam Pomfrey was going to exit her office soon with a large tray full of potions. One of them was for Ron to spread over the vein like scars over his arms and the other ten were for Hermione to drink, to lessen the pain in her side.

She knew that Theo was going to walk through those doors at exactly seven thirty, with a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a plate full of pastries. She knew that he would sit between her and Ron’s beds with a fake smile on his face and wouldn’t look at her in the eyes for his entire visit.

She hadn’t yet told him that she stunned his father; that he might have gotten away if he hadn’t grabbed Harry’s sleeve. She wondered if he knew.

Sure enough, Madam Pomfrey walked through her office doors with a tray of potions. Theo spent most of the morning and afternoon making small talk with Ron while Hermione pretended to read a book. Harry even stopped by and Hermione read him the Daily Prophet with occasional scathing remarks at the blatant hypocrisy. It made her feel a little bit better.

It was another end to the school year, Theo had no home and wouldn’t acknowledge her, Harry was depressed and anxious, Ron had scars that would probably never heal and Hermione had a pain in her side and a guilt that was starting to eat up her insides.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione has always had a way with words. When she had first learned to read, she was frustrated by slow she was progressing. Taking matters into her own hands, she spent hours on the floor of her dad’s office, with a huge dictionary spread open on her lap, crushing her tiny legs. She loved discovering new words and seeing the shocked looks on adults’ faces when she used them in every day conversation. When her teacher, Ms. Jacobs, didn’t step forward and stop the bullying from happening among her students, seven-year-old Hermione called her a tyrant. Her dad choked on his morning tea.

But this particular morning, for the first time in a very long time, words, who were always so faithful and wonderful, were failing her.

“I just don’t understand, Hermione,” Hermione’s mum, Rose, said, rubbing her temples, “You just saw them last week, why are you already talking about visiting the…. What did you call it?”

Hermione sighed and looked down at her plate of eggs and toast, “The Burrow.”

Rose cleared her throat, “Yes. That. The Burrow. We only get you for the summer Hermione. Why do you feel the need to spend all of your free time there?”

“They’re my friends, mum.”

“And _we_ are your family. I don’t know about you, but I think that we take precedence over your friends.”

“You do! It’s just that- it’s different okay?”

“How is it different? We are your mother and father. We should be more important to you than them!”

“You are more important to me! You and dad are always going to be the most important!”

Rose sighed, for what seemed like the twentieth time that morning and grabbed her cup of tea rather forcefully, sloshing liquid over the rim of the mug. She hissed when the hot liquid touched her hand. Hermione leaned over and handed her a napkin.

How could she make her parents understand? How did she make her parents understand that she felt like she was slowly suffocating, how it hurt her to not know how Theo was really doing, how she felt so extremely anxious that the Death Eaters now knew what she looked like?

Rose had finished wiping her hands on the napkin and was now cleaning the table of the spilt tea.

“Mum. It’s been a difficult year okay? Harry’s godfather died. Theo’s dad was arrested and he’s living with the Weasleys. He’s my- he’s my best friend. I need to make sure that he’s okay.”

Rose didn’t reply. She stared at her husband, who had pushed his uneaten breakfast to the side and was working on the crossword puzzle in the Sunday morning’s paper.

_Good luck tearing him away from his crossword puzzle, mum._  

“Rodger dear. I could use some assistance.” Roger continued to write away, occasionally he briefly paused and bit his lip in concentration.   
Rose slightly rose her voice, “Rodger!”

The man in question jumped, running his pen across the page. He tutted and looked up at his wife and daughter. Hermione started lowering herself in her chair at the beginning of this exchange and was now eye level with the table. Rose’s face was flushed, her arms crossed.

“I’m sorry love. What seems to be the problem?”

Rose and Hermione sighed in unison.

“Hermione feels like she needs to spend time at the- the Burrow for the rest of the summer.”

Rodger cleared his throat, “Hermione?”

He always did like to hear both sides of the argument before formulating an opinion.

“Harry’s godfather just died. He’s going to be going through a lot. And Theo’s dad was just arrested and he’s staying with the Weasley’s, but he doesn’t exactly get along with Ron, so I _want_ to be there with him. For him.”

Rodger hummed, “And who is this Theo person?”

“Theo Nott. I talked about him in my letters. We were study partners at first, but he’s become a good friend of mine.”

Rodger gave her a cryptic look, “A friend huh?”

“God, dad. Yes. A friend.”

“And his father was arrested? Whatever for?”

_He’s a psychopath who dedicated his life to a group of terrorists. He has most likely abused Theo, killed innocent people, and I was the one who left him stunned in the Hall of Prophecies for the Aurors to pick up. Oh, and he would gladly offer us his services to torture, then kill all three of us._  
Hermione paused, “I’m not sure, Theo wouldn’t say. I just know that he’s not the nicest person.”

Rodger sighed, “Poor kid. Can’t choose your parents, can you? And why can’t he come here and spend time with you?”

Rose gasped, “Well, first off, they would be here _alone_ in the house _all day_.”

Hermione snorted, “So you would rather I be alone in the house all day?”

“Don’t talk to your mother like that, Hermione.”

“You guys are working all day,” said Hermione, “We’re not taking a holiday at all, so why can’t I spend time at the Burrow?”

“Because we still have evenings, Hermione! We have most weekends. We could spend time in London together. Maybe we can even go to the Alley you talk about, with all the magic.”

“If you ever even bothered to listen, you would know that it’s called Diagon Alley, mum,” snapped Hermione.

“Hermione,” warned Rodger.

“I don’t want to spend the summer without magic! Why is that so difficult to understand?” cried Hermione.

“You can’t perform magic outside of school until you are seventeen,” said Rodger, looking rather proud of himself.

“But the Burrow is magic. The Weasleys are magic.”

Rose huffed, “And we’re not.” The rejection and resignation were clear in her tone, making Hermione flush.

“It’s just different,” whispered Hermione.

“And we can’t possibly understand, am I right?”

“No… it’s just… my life is magic. I am magic. I’m a witch,” replied Hermione, not missing the wince on her father’s face.

Frustrated, she said, “What? Am I not allowed to say that? That I’m a witch?”

Rodger looked at his daughter, and said franticly, “No. No. You are always welcome to share whatever is on your mind. It’s just the negative connotation of the word. It takes some getting used to.”

Everything within Hermione wanted to scream, “You’ve had five fucking years dad! How much longer is it going to take?”

Instead, she whispered, “Okay.”

An awkward silence filled the room.

“I’m not hungry. I’m still a bit tired from last night, I didn’t sleep well. Think I’m going to go upstairs and lie down for a bit.”

Hermione stood up from the table and made her way up to her room, using every last bit of her self-control to not stomp up the stairs and slam the door of her room shut.

Crookshanks was basking in the sunlight that was lighting up her bed.

“Hey Crooky,” Hermione whispered, throwing herself on the bed next to him, throwing the cat up in the air momentarily. Crookshanks mewed in annoyance. Hermione apologized by burying her face in his soft warm fur, cuddling up next to him.   
Hermione knew that her parents would give in eventually and she wasn’t quite sure if she was grateful or offended for that. As the years passed, she was all too aware of how her being magic made them uncomfortable. They acted interested in her school, focusing on her grades and teachers, but if she mentioned a potion she brewed or how she was going to learn more on human transfiguration next term, they quickly changed the subject. They still supported her, loved her more than anything, but most of the time, they seemed like they didn’t quite know what to make of her.

A soft knock came at her door, and she heard her dad’s voice, “Is all well my dear?”

Hermione smiled, her face still buried in Crookshanks’ fur, “All is well, dad.”

He laughed, “Sorry, love. Can’t hear you through all that fur and hair.”

She lifted her head, resting her chin on her cat, “All is well.”

“Swell!” grinned Rodger, chuckling, looking well pleased at his rhyme.

He cleared his throat, “Your mother and I were talking, and we think it would just fine if you spent some time at the Weasleys.”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin, “Thanks dad.”

He chuckled again and looked at Hermione fondly, “You’re a good kid, Hermione. We know that.”

Hermione looked up at her father, his brown skin, even darker than hers, was glowing in the sunlight. His dark curly, frizzy hair was collecting more and more grey strands. It seemed strange that he was growing older, she almost wouldn’t be surprised if his young, carefree spirit wouldn’t allow him to grow old at all.

“Love you dad.”   
“And I love you my dear Hermione.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next week, Hermione found herself waking up in Ginny’s room at the wonderful, magical, absolutely beautiful Burrow. Hermione loved how this house was full to the brim with magic. Everywhere you looked, there was magic. Dishes washing themselves, moving paintings and pictures filled the walls, even the actual structure of the house had to be held up by magic, the mismatched rooms and rooftops seemed to defy gravity.

She quickly dressed in a pair of shorts and shirt. After pulling a jumper over her head, she grabbed her book and made her way down the stairs, hoping to catch a moment to herself before the rest of the Weasleys woke up, and most importantly, before _Phlegm_ made her entrance.

When she entered the kitchen, Theo was sitting down, blowing at a cup of tea, while Mrs. Weasley was busying herself at the stovetop. She was chatting away, with Theo occasionally laughing or nodding in her direction. He was wearing muggle jeans and a white cotton shirt. She had never seen him in anything besides wizarding robes. He looked thin and pale, but happy. Happier than she had ever seen him before. He was even slouching in his chair, something that she had only seen him do in the library.

“Good morning,” chirped Hermione. She inwardly winced at how cheerful her voice sounded.

“Good morning, Hermione,” smiled Mrs. Weasley, turning her back to the stove to give Hermione a cup of steaming tea.   
She thanked her and then turned to Theo and said quickly, before she lost her nerve, “Fancy getting some fresh air?”

Theo nodded and without even looking at her, walked right out of the house into the cool morning air. She hurried to follow him, careful to not spill her tea. He settled on the stoop, looking down at his hands. Hermione sat down next to him, their shoulders barely brushing.

“I’m sorry.” Theo’s voice cut through Hermione’s thoughts, making her jump.

“What are you sorry for?” demanded Hermione.

“For hitting that Death Eater. I shouldn’t of. I should have stopped, but, Merlin, it felt so good to punch him. He was going to kill you, Hermione. He was going to kill you and I just kept on hitting him and you looked absolutely terrified of me. I don’t blame you. I was terrified of me. If you hadn’t stopped me, I don’t think I would have.” Theo buried his face in his hands.

The sounds of birds chirping filled the air, the smell of bacon cooking was wafting from the kitchen and in the distant they could see mist rising from the pond.

“Theo. Theo. Please look at me,” whispered Hermione. He lifted his head up and looked at her, right in her eyes for the first time in weeks. His eyes were bloodshot and watery.

“I wasn’t terrified of you. I was just thinking that I could have died, and you saved me. When he started saying… saying that curse, I remember in fourth year when Professor Moody was teaching us about the Unforgivables and that spider. It just dropped. Dead.”

Theo had tears running down his cheeks.

“So, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for punching a Death Eater in the face for me. I truly appreciate it, Theo.”

Theo burst out laughing, “Anytime, Granger.”

“Are you doing alright?”

Theo wiped his face on the inside of his shirt, “Oh, you know me. I’m always fine.

“Theo. About your dad… I-”

“Oh, that’s right! I have to thank _you_ , Hermione. Thanks for stunning my dad.”

Hermione froze, “You knew?”

Theo looked at her incredulously, “Of course, I knew. I was running right next to you. I was about to do it myself, but you beat me to it.”

Hermione let out a deep breath and started giggling, “I thought you were mad at me because I stunned him.”

Theo giggled as well.

_God, I missed his laugh._

Their giggled morphed into laughter, the kind where your belly aches, tears form in your eyes, you can’t help the wide and joyful grin that spreads across your face, and no matter what you do, you can’t stop until you are out of breath and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

Their laughter faded into big smiles, then they looked at each other again and burst into uncontainable laughter again. They didn’t even notice the faint _pop_ of someone Apparating until Fred Weasley walked up the stoop and stood in front of them. He looked oddly lonely without his counterpart.

“Hello, Granger. Welcome to the Burrow. Morning, Theo. And what exactly is so funny?”

 Giggling, Hermione said, “Inside joke, Fred.”

“Don’t be silly, Granger. I’m George!”

“Nice try, Fred. How’s the shop going?”

“Just smashing. You lot should stop by, business is booming. And how the hell did you know that I’m Fred?”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Theo blurted out, “Your freckles are different.”

The silence that stretched between them was so awkward that Hermione thought she might just die because of it. Looking up, she saw Theo a bright red and Fred looking remarkably pleased with himself.

“Good to know, Theo. See you lot inside. George agreed to open the shop this morning and I wasn’t looking forward to having cereal for the third day in a row, so I thought I’d stop by for Molly Weasley’s famous breakfast. I hear it’s quite filling. If you’ll excuse me.” He winked at Theo, who was still a bright red, and walked around the sitting pair, towards the kitchen.

Hermione smirked, “Has he been stopping by lately?”

Theo cleared his throat, placing his hands on his cheeks, as if willing the blush to fade, “Fred says they’re a bit hopeless in the kitchen, so they’ve been stopping by for most meals. I think Mrs. Weasley enjoys having them home.”

Hermione hummed, “Right. _Mrs. Weasley_ enjoys having them home.”

Theo huffed, “Oh shut up, Hermione.”  


	15. Like a Prat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**Chapter 15**  

 

Theodore Nott was highlight of Hermione’s summer. In the midst of disappearances and deaths of witches and wizards and other horrors reported by the Daily Prophet, Theo’s company became a breath of fresh air.

Early mornings quickly became theirs. They would prepare their cups of tea and talk to their hearts’ content until the sun was shining bright through the kitchen window and the air was filled with the scent of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking.

Over their cups of tea, they started admitting things they had never voiced out loud before. After stirring in three spoonsful of sugar into his mug, Theo quietly explained how his dad would never allow him to eat sweets and starting in his first year he vowed to eat all the desserts he could stomach and started adding sugar to his tea. He hadn’t even enjoyed it at first, but now he can’t start a day without his sickly-sweet tea with a splash of milk.

Hermione explained her parent’s professions (“A healer for your teeth, Theo, it’s not that hard to understand”) and said that her parents spoiled her, with material possessions (mostly books), but they also gave her all the love and attention that she would ever need. For the first eleven years of her life, she was the center of their universe. She knew that she was lucky to have those years, but she thought that was why their failure to even begin to understand her world, frustrated her beyond belief. As much as she fought to be at the Burrow, she was honestly a bit disappointed that they let her go after only two weeks of being home, like she was an inconvenience to them.

While Theo opened up about his mother, who adored beyond belief, and his father, who he had an unhealthy amount of fear towards, Hermione explained all about the mischief and trouble the Gryffindor trio had gotten into since their first year. Theo had laughed himself hoarse after Hermione explained her two weeks with a tail and fur in the Hospital Wing.

Theo was blending in nicely with the Weasley family. He was helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen for most meals and joining her out in the garden in the afternoons. Fred and George joined them for most dinners, much to Theo and Mrs. Weasley’s delight. He talked in depth with Bill and Hermione about his job at Gringotts. Theo was immune to Fleur’s charm, so that automatically put him in Ginny’s good graces. Even Ron was trying to make sure that he was enjoying his summer at the Burrow.

At dinner one night, after Theo expressed his support for Ballycastle Bats, Ron was absolutely horrified and tried his absolute best to convince him that the Chudley Cannons were the up and coming Quidditch team this season. Ginny snorted so hard that milk came out of her nose.

“I’m just saying, Nott, they’re point average is the highest it’s been in a century.”

Harry handed Ginny a napkin with an exasperated look on his face, “That’s not saying much, Ron. The last time they won the League Cup was in 1892.”

_If they just applied this level of effort towards literally anything else…_

“You see my dear brother,” said George, “We greatly admire you for sticking for your team when they’re obviously a disgrace to all wizarding kind-”

“And a joke among any Quidditch player-” said Fred.

“But the Puddlemere United is an actual proper team, that _deserves_ our support.”

Harry was nodding vehemently, his mouth full of bread.

“Boys. Boys. You’re all wrong,” Ginny said loudly, “The Holyhead Harpies. Not only can they beat every other team’s arses-”

“Ginny Weasley!”

“But they’re all girls, so that automatically makes them better than any other team. Right Hermione?”

“I don’t like Quidditch,” said Hermione weakly.

“Come off it,” protested Ginny, “You go to every game at school. You enjoyed yourself at the Quidditch Cup, _and_ you dated one of the most brilliant seekers in the world!”

Harry and Ron turned a brilliant shade of red almost simultaneously.

Hermione shrugged, “You can only see your closest friends almost die playing that awful sport so many times before you begin to resent it.”

“Don’t listen to any of them, Nott. Chudley Cannons. Chudley. Cannons.”

Theo laughed softly, “I don’t even follow their games. I do have a jersey though. My mum was Irish, so that’s really the only reason I support them.”

Mrs. Weasley approached Theo and scooped a second helping of dessert on his plate. He smiled at her in return, “Here you go dear. We went to school together, you know. She was two years above Arthur and me, but she was a very kind person, I do remember that.”

Theo smiled even brighter, “Yeah, she was.”

“I thought your dad was like in his late sixties,” said Ron.

“Yes, he is. He was 20 years older than my mum.”

Hermione cleared her throat to break the silence at the table, “That was quite common in the 50s. Especially with Pure-Blood families. I was reading a book just last week about Pure-Blood marriages and-”

Everyone groaned in unison.

“Please, leave your books about ancient Pure-Blood ways far away from the kitchen table,” Ginny said, gesturing around the room, “This is a sacred place.”

“Hear, hear!” said Theo, raising his glass to Ginny.

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s a Death Eater,” said Harry slowly. “He’s a fucking Death Eater. He’s replaced his father!”

They were in Fred and George’s old room, was staying. Ron was laying on his back on the floor and Harry was sitting, crossed legged on the bed. Hermione was perched on the window sill, the window wide open. A cool breeze was loosening her plait, her frizzy curls framing her face.

She knew it was a bad idea to follow Malfoy. She knew it. But, as always, she went along with Harry’s plan. That really was becoming a problem. And now Harry was obsessed. He had been talking of nothing but Malfoy for the past week. As this was the last Malfoy-free day she would have until Christmas, she wasn’t particularly keen on encouraging Harry’s convictions.

Ron burst into laughter, “Malfoy? He’s sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join?”

Hermione agreed, “It seems very unlikely, Harry. What makes you think-?”

“In Madam Malkin’s. She didn’t touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He’s been branded with the Dark Mark.”

_That’s… stretching it, Harry._  

At that moment, Theo opened the door and popped his head in.

“Mrs. Weasley wanted to remind you to finish packing up. If there’s any more laundry then-” He looked slowly around the room. Harry was high on his knees on the bed, with a mad glint in his eye. Ron was looking reproachfully at Harry, but at the same time looked about a moment away from bursting into laughter again. Hermione just looked annoyed.

“Are you okay?” questioned Theo, looking at Harry.

“Malfoy’s a Death Eater!” yelled Harry.

Theo took a step back, “Whoa. Okay. What makes you say that?”

Harry explained their excursion to Knockturn Alley the previous week and Malfoy’s dodgy behavior. Theo had been advised to not join the group to Diagon Alley, because of his presence at the Department of Mysteries. When they encountered the Malfoy’s in Madam Malkin’s, Hermione was ever so grateful that Theo stayed at the Burrow with Fleur.

While Harry was talking, Theo’s eyebrows shifted higher and higher, disappearing into his fringe. His hair had gotten long this summer, just barely touching his collar, slightly curling at the edges. It reminded Hermione of pictures she had seen of Sirius in his Hogwarts days.

Harry was breathing deeply by the time he finished, and Theo shook his head.

“You know, sometimes, I am appalled by how outlandishly Gryffindor you are. Every one of you,” he said with one hand on his hip, wagging his finger around the room.

Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth to keep a loud snort from erupting. He was a near perfect picture of Mrs. Weasley.

Ron had a similar thought, “Merlin. Stop hanging out with my mother.”

“Hey, you’re a Slytherin!” said Harry, pointing at Theo.

“Mmmhmm.”

“And you room with him! It’s perfect!”

“Oh no,” Theo drawled.

Harry’s face fell, “Why not?”

Hermione winced.

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I was there in the Department of Mysteries with the rest of you. And not only did I have a hand in placing my own father in prison, but I helped put three of my roommates’ fathers in Azkaban, including Draco’s. We weren’t the best of mates before all of this, and now I’m basically a traitor. So, I doubt that he is going to tolerate my presence, much less share if he has indeed joined the Death Eaters this summer.”  

After a moment of silence, Theo tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace, and said, “Anyways, give Mrs. Weasley any dirty laundry. But she’s a bit in a mood, so be careful,” and left, shutting the door behind him.  

Hermione sighed, “Jesus. Think before you speak, Harry.”

Harry shrugged helplessly, “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Obviously.”

“Come off it, Hermione,” groaned Ron.

Hermione huffed, “Seriously? Theo is going to have an extremely tough year and the least we can do is-”

“We know. We don’t need you to remind us, again and again,” snapped Ron.   

“Okay, you two,” Harry said, getting up off the bed, “Can I leave you alone for five seconds or are you going to bite each other’s heads off?”

Hermione glared at Ron, who flushed in return. Harry grabbed a pile of laundry and headed out to the landing. Ron cleared his throat and picked at a piece of lint on his shirt. He was purposefully ignoring her, but that gave her the opportunity to stare at him.

He had changed this summer. He was taller. His normally shaggy hair was cut close to the sides and long and floppy on top. He never seemed to sunburn or tan, he just gained more freckles. The vein-like scars on his arms had grown less and less red since June, fading into a silvery white, only appearing red when he was directly in the sunlight.  

Hermione wasn’t quite sure what she found so appealing about Ron. He was attractive, sure, but most of the time he seemed perfectly content to ignore her in favor of something else: a broom, any number of “fit” girls, a rat, Harry. And it left Hermione wondering if there was something wrong with her. Sure, she wasn’t the prettiest girl ever, but her parents had always taught her that looks that were not the most important thing. She was smart. “Scary smart,” he told her on numerous occasions. Her brain was always working, always thinking, planning, learning. She thought that was the most attractive thing about her, but, unfortunately, that’s not what most teenaged boys seemed to be looking for. In fact, it intimidated them.  

But he was so sweet when he wanted to be. It was in those moments; she knew why she fancied him. The compliments, the light touches, the huge grins that he seems to reserve only for her.

She thought of Margret Adams, a friend she had in primary school, whose parents were ridiculously in love. Whenever she went over to Margret’s house, for a play date or a sleep over, she would watch Mr. and Mrs. Adams playfully flirt with one another, like they were young teenagers in love, instead of middle-aged parents with a mortgage and full-time jobs. She wondered if she could have that type of relationship with Ron. If Ron even wanted that type of relationship with her.

“What are you thinking about?” Ron asked quietly.

Hermione flushed, debated lying, then said, “Relationships.”

Ron quickly turned his head to her, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Ron hummed, “What about them?”

Hermione stomach was twisting into knots. She was sure that she was moments away from expelling her lunch, “Just… what type of relationship I would want someday.”

Silence. He started picking at his shirt again.

_Please say something. Please say something. Anything. Please._  

“I better get going. Need to finish packing up or mum’s gonna have a meltdown,” he stammered. He stood up and walked out the door, not making eye contact with Hermione, his ears a burning red, leaving her sitting on the window sill, the wind blowing through her hair.

Sighing, Hermione looked outside the window, seeing a familiar head of hair lounging in the sunlit grass. She walked down the stairs and snuck past a cross Mrs. Weasley and Fleur, who was elbow deep in wedding planning.

“Hey you.”

Theo slightly lifted his head, squinting in the sunlight, “Hey love.”

She settled down in the grass next to him and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth.

“Sorry about Harry.”

Theo laughed softly, “It’s alright. I know he’s a bit… clueless at times.”

Hermione snorted, “Yeah. I love him, I do. But he is a bit clueless,” she paused. “They both are.”

Theo turned his head and looked at her.

“So, what makes you say-”

“Please. Don’t,” Hermione pleaded. “I already feel like… like a tit. I really don’t want to relive it.”

“Alright.”

They both laid on their backs staring at the cloudless blue sky. She couldn’t believe summer was already over.

“Speaking of cluelessness, is there a betting pool for when Ginny and Harry get their shit together?”

Hermione laughed, “There could be.”

“I want five galleons for before Christmas.”

Hermione hummed, “I say in the last two months of the school year, May or June, five galleons as well.”

“But that’s so far away!”

She thought back to Harry’s first disaster of a relationship, where when Cho asked Harry out, he had no idea what was happening, and the disaster of a date at Madam Puddifoot’s.

She smirked, “No, it’s not.”  
“If you say so. We should get Fred and George to join. I bet Bill would too.”

Hermione sat up suddenly, crossed her legs and leaned towards Theo, “So what’s happening there?”

“Where?”   
“You know. Fred.”

Theo, who was tanner than Hermione can ever remember him being, turned a shade darker, “Nothing.”

“Oh, come off it. They don’t have to come over for dinner, but they do. And he’s coming here _alone_ for breakfast at least three days a week. Sitting next to you,” Hermione wiggled her eyebrows, “Flirting with you.”

“Oh, he is _not_ flirting.”

“Au contraire, my friend. He is definitely trying to chat you up.” 

Theo spluttered, “He’s not. He’s most likely straight.”

“He’s something alright, but he’s not straight.”

Theo sighed, “Okay, he’s fit. But that’s it. I don’t fancy him or anything.”

“Do you just think Fred is fit? Because George looks exactly the same.”

“No, they don’t!”  
“Ah, right, their freckles,” Hermione giggled. Theo slapped her in the arm.

This was the first time they openly talked about Theo’s love interests. It was a nice change from Theo raising his eyebrows at Hermione and Ron’s awkward attempts at… whatever they did.

She stared at him, “It’s alright if you do, you know. Fancy him, I mean.”

“But I don’t, okay?”

Hermione laid back down next to him, “Is it Zabini?”

Theo groaned loudly and rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes, “No!”

“Really?” drawled Hermione.   
“Yes. I mean, no.”

She paused, “Do you or not?”

Theo sighed, “Yes, I do.”

“Really though? Zabini? He’s a bit pretentious.”

Theo grinned, “Oh no. He is not. Blaise is _extremely_ pretentious.”

“How long have you fancied him?”  
“Third year.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yes, it is. Do you know this from experience?”

Hermione gasped and shoved his shoulder. Theo looked awfully pleased with himself, but he quickly grew solemn, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Hermione grabbed his hand, “I would never.”

“About any of this. If this gets out… I think my father would break out of Azkaban with just sheer willpower and then actually kill me.”

_The frightening thing, I don’t think he’s being sarcastic._  

“You don’t have to worry, you know. The Weasleys are very accepting people. And I know it’s not something that is very common in the Wizarding World-”

Theo snorted.

“-but in the Muggle world it’s becoming more and more accepted. Even several famous actors and politicians have come out. There are Pride Parades, every year. The first Pride London was in 1972 and the movement has been growing since then. Well, actually when homosexuality was decriminalized in 1967, that’s when I feel it-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Theo interrupted, “ _Decriminalized_? How do you know all this?”

Hermione stared at him, “It’s important to know your history. I’m a witch, but my family are muggles, so I study our history. It’s important to know where you came from, how your ancestors struggled or thrived, what their lives were like,” she threw her arms up in the air, “That’s why I do not understand why everyone hates History of Magic. Sure, Binns is… Binns. And I might enjoy it a bit more because I didn’t grow up with it, but it’s still all of our history! We are in a pivotal point in the Wizarding World and it is so important that we understand our history so we can better understand what is happening now; what is effecting us now.” She took a deep breath.

Theo looked at her strangely.

“What?” Hermione questioned, feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“What it is? Do you not agree?”   
“No, no. Not that. You just sound like someone I know.”

Hermione huffed, “That sounds ominous. Who?”

Theo laughed, “Oh my dear. I value my life, so there is not a chance in hell that I am _ever_ going to tell you that.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione and Ron were walking down the corridor in the Hogwarts Express when they saw Draco Malfoy in his compartment with Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Parkinson.

_Ugh. Parkinson._  

Malfoy looked up and gave them a two-fingered salute, which Ron returned, his lips curled. There was something in Malfoy’s face made Hermione falter. While everyone was tan from the summer holidays, Malfoy was a pale grey, like he hadn’t seen the light of day for months. But even more shocking than his complexion was that his face was absolutely expressionless. No sneer, no scowl, not a hint of annoyance on his face. Absolutely nothing. Hermione got the feeling that, if she got close enough, his dark grey eyes would look empty, dead. She shivered.

“Did Malfoy look weird to you?” she asked.

“Like a prat, you mean?”

Hermione paused, thinking about Harry’s suspicion and all those months ago when Malfoy exclaimed, “I don’t” in that dusty empty classroom.

“Yeah. Like a prat.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favorites are back at Hogwarts for their sixth year. Get ready to throw cannon out the window without a regret in sight. 
> 
> ANNNNDDDDDD.... We officially have more than a hundred kudos. Every single one of you are absolutely amazing. Thank you so much!


	16. A Conversation Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Sixth Year!  
> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.
> 
> Warning: a brief mention of suicide in this chapter. Please, be kind to yourselves.   
> Happy Reading!

Hermione left Harry and Ron at the end of break to catch up with Theo, who was looking lonely in the courtyard. They barely noticed that she had left, speculating what Dumbledore would soon be teaching Harry in their private lessons; Ron was going on about questionable jinxes and hexes; Harry was wide eyed and nodding his head enthusiastically.

While Hermione and Theo made way down to the dungeons for their first Potions lesson with Professor Slughorn, Theo was praising Harry’s antics in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“I mean, he’s my superior, my head of house, but blimey. That was fucking brilliant, that was. The look on Snape’s face was priceless. Worthy of a pensieve.” 

Hermione sighed, shifting several large tomes in her arms, “He shouldn’t have done that. DADA is Harry’s favorite subject and Snape can make life miserable for him.”

Theo snorted, “And he already doesn’t?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, “Touché.”

She looked up and saw Malfoy’s bright hair in front of them, bouncing slightly, headed down the stairs to the dungeons. Every class she attended, he was there, with his perfect blonde hair, without his usually smug look on his face. It was unnerving to see him so expressionless. At least she would know what to think of him when he was his usual cocky self. He had smashed Harry’s nose in, which resulted in Gryffindor losing seventy points before the first lesson, and (in Hermione’s opinion, which she would never dare utter out loud) Harry had _slightly_ deserved it. Eavesdropping in the Slytherin compartment under his Invisibility cloak!  Maybe just the breaking of the nose, not hiding his frozen figure under his cloak. But Malfoy hadn’t even boasted of his victory over Harry to his classmates. After cleaning Harry’s face of blood, Hermione had glanced up at the Slytherin table to see Malfoy picking at his plate, gripping his utensil tight as Parkinson tried to talk with him, his knuckles pure white. He looked almost as miserable as Theo.

“How are things going in the dorm?” she asked, still staring at Malfoy descending down the stairs.

“Fine.”

“Really?”  

He sighed, “It really is fine. I walked in the dorm, they all looked at me, then ignored me for the rest of the night. Not one word from any of them,” he shrugged, “It was better than Goyle beating the shit out of me, so I’m not complaining.”

“ _All_ of them ignored you?”

“Yes, Hermione. All of them.”

They descended into the dungeons, and up to the Potions classroom. The door wasn’t open yet, Harry and Ron followed in, heads still bent together. The pair was quickly cornered by Ernie Macmillan. Ron looked over his shoulder at Hermione and Theo, and mouthed, “Help me.”

Hermione raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, keeping her distance from the Hufflepuff. Theo muttered under his breath, “I can’t stand that bloke.”

Ron was stepping from foot to foot, looking for a moment to break into Ernie’s speech, and Harry was looking disinterested and bored. He had been a bit off since Dumbledore announced the new Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Harry loudly yelled, “The fuck?!” drawing attention from half of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Unfortunately, the cheering from the Slytherin table was so loud that the head table hadn’t heard him. She would have given anything to see the look on Snape’s face, or even Professor McGonagall’s. The Headmaster would probably have just looked amused.

The doors opened and Ron grabbed Harry by the arm and practically dragged him in. It seemed like a whole new classroom. Grime and smoke that had been building up for years and years looked as if they were scrubbed away, revealing a much cleaner, but slightly stained stone walls and ceilings.

Hermione, Ron and Harry were the only sixth year Gryffindors pursuing Potions this year; _(Poor Neville. He thought he was escaping Snape this year, only to have him for Defense.)_ four Ravenclaws: Padma Patil, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner (Ron was glaring at him from the corner of his eye), and Terry Boot; four Slytherins: Malfoy, Zabini, Theo and Greengrass. And Ernie, of course.

The Ravenclaws scrambled to sit at a table together. Ernie sat himself beside the Gryffindors and the Slytherins grabbed a table for their right, Theo looking extremely awkward sitting at the edge of his seat, as if at any moment he might have to make a run for it. Hermione smiled at him, hoping to not look to sympathetic. She looked down at the table, also freshly clean, and sighed, rubbing her eyes.

The glorious feeling of summer had now completely faded, leaving only a dull feeling of anxiety inside of her. In the comfort and safety of the Burrow, she slept through the night, even through Ginny’s snores, but here at the castle, she awoke from a new dream almost every hour. Gasping, panting, tears flowing down her cheeks. Then falling back into a fitful sleep, only to wake the next hour. By the time the morning sun had risen, she had forgotten what had even happened in her dreams. The only proof she had of a restless night were the large bags underneath her eyes and her sullen mood.

Professor Slughorn stood up at the front of the class and clapped his hands together, “Now then, now then, now then. Scales out, everyone, and potions kits, and don’t forget your copies of _Advanced Potion Making_.”

“Sir?” said Harry, raising his hand.

“Harry, m’boy?”

“I haven’t got a book or scales or anything – nor has Ron – we didn’t realize we’d be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see-”

“Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention… not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all…”

Hermione looked up at the several large cauldrons bubbling on the front desk.

_Veritaserum, Polyjuice Potion, Amortentia and Felix Felicis._

The Amortentia was filling the dungeon with the most pleasant scent. Parchment. Freshly mown grass… Broomstick polish? And the very distinct smell of the Burrow, almost a musty, worn scent that permeated throughout the Burrow. Hermione flushed and was exceedingly grateful that the distinct smell of Ron wasn’t what she smelt. She wouldn’t be able to bear it. But maybe that’s the broom polish?

_Why broom polish? I don’t even like the smell; it smells like chemicals. Besides, Ron doesn’t even use broom polish for his broom most of the time, if he needs it, he just asks… Harry._  

Hermione looked over at Harry in horror. He was flipping through his borrowed copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ , curling his lip at the marks the previous owner had written down, making the actual instructions nearly illegible _._ His hair was a bigger mess than usual, the steam making the curls stand up on end, and he a bit of jam from breakfast on the front of his robes.

She shook her head, packing the information about broom polish in the back of her mind to observe later, she jumped and realized that class had started without her.

Terry Boot was saying, “- a truth potion. It is colorless and odorless, making it undetectable at times.”

Hermione berated herself for getting distracted in her first class with a new professor.

“Very good!” cried Slughorn, “Now,” pointing to the cauldron closest to the Ravenclaws, “This one here is pretty well known… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too.. Who-”

Hermione threw her hand up in the air, a bit forcefully, not wanting to miss another question, “It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir.”

“Excellent, excellent, and this one here-” he said pointing to the love potion.

Hermione raised her hand again, “It’s Amortentia!”

Slughorn looked impressed, “It is indeed. Could you tell the class what this potion does?”   
“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world! You can recognize it by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen and the steam,” she said pointing to the vapor rising, “it’s rising in characteristic spirals, and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us. I-” she paused, knowing that once she started spouting off facts, it became rather difficult for her to stop, and she did not want anyone to know of the broom polish until she had time to exam her new revelation.

“Quite right!” said Slughorn, gleefully, “May I ask your name, my dear?” 

“Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger. Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

_And… Here we go._  

“No, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw Greengrass smirk and nudge Malfoy with her elbow, who, again, remained expressionless and staring forward, like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

Slughorn beamed, “Oho! ‘One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she’s the best in our year!’ I’m assuming this is the very friend whom you spoke, Harry?”   
She turned her head and looked at Harry, gratefully.

_Oh, you sweet boy._  

“Yes, sir,” said Harry.

Hermione could practically feel the glares of all the Ravenclaws, but she was just looking at Harry. That was so kind of him, to tell a Professor that. She almost didn’t hear Slughorn reward her twenty points.

“Did you really tell him I’m the best in the year? Oh, Harry!”

“Well, what’s so impressive about that?” asked Ron, looking annoyed, “You are the best in the year- I’ve told him if he’s asked me!”

Hermione completely ignored him and just smiled brightly at Harry; turning her attention back to Slughorn, who was explaining the dangers and powers of Amortentia.

“And now,” said Slughorn, “It is time for us to start work.”

“Sir, you haven’t told us about this one,” said Ernie, pointing to the Felix Felicis.

“Oho. Yes. That,” Slughorn paused, “Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is the most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” he turned towards Hermione, “that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?”  
“It’s liquid luck. It makes you lucky!”

At her words, everyone in class sat a bit straighter. Malfoy was looking more attentive than he had all day, no longer staring dead ahead, but looking between Slughorn and the gold potion.

Slughorn was talking about the Felix Felicis, explaining how too much can make a person dangerously overconfident. Hermione started to tune him out (she had already read the portion of the textbook explaining the lucky potion and bought and read a book that had the instructions on to make it) and thought about the broom polish.   
Was she suppressing feelings towards Victor? Or even worse, Harry?

_Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione. You do not fancy Harry for God’s sake. You do not fancy Victor. You fancy Ronald Weasley. For better or for worse._    
She glanced over at him. He had propped his head up with the palm of his hand. His eyes were glazed over, watching the Amortentia bubble away, taking in deep breaths through his nose.

_I wonder what he’s smelling._

_Why broom polish?_

“And that,” said Slughorn, his voice rising, breaking Hermione from her trance, “is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.”

Complete silence.

“One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis,” said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. “Enough for twelve hours’ luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.”

_Oh, my God._  

“Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competition… sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So, the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… wand watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!”

“So,” said Slughorn, “How are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of _Advanced Potion Making_. We have little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death…”

Hermione had already flipped her book open and was observing the potion. It was difficult, if did not stir the potion exactly according to the instructions, measure everything with extreme caution, the whole potion could be ruined. But Hermione did brew Polyjuice Potion when she was just thirteen, so she felt extremely confident in her abilities.    
The Ravenclaws were all adequate at Potions, so were most of the Slytherins. She would never admit out loud, there wasn’t much of competition with Harry and Ron. Her only real problem was Malfoy. He was on par with her in Potions, and it wasn’t until fourth year that she realized that he was actually good at brewing and not just Snape’s favorite, much to her chagrin.    
Getting up to gather her ingredients, she glanced over at the Slytherin table. Theo face was working quietly; his hands were shaking slightly as he was cutting up Valerian roots. Malfoy’s pale face was flushed, his eyes wide. He looked like a mad scientist with the steam rising around him, his normally perfectly styled hair curling slightly. It was refreshing to see Malfoy, so uptight and proper, look a little bit disheveled.

She didn’t even let her own hand go up to her hair, knowing that it was growing obnoxiously large in the heat.

Her potion was going along swimmingly. Harry was glaring at his book, glancing between his copy and Ron’s, and sighing loudly.

After stirring twice clockwise, she added the sloth brain, her potion turned a “smooth, black currant-color” as per the instructions. Going back to her sopophorous bean, she started cutting up the bean in tiny slivers, producing a miniscule amount of juice. Feeling frustrated, she looked back at her book and then to the stubborn bean. Sighing, she continued to slice it, then adding the juice to the cauldron.

_Stir seven times anti-clockwise. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. What?_

The potion remained a deep purple.

_Why didn’t that work?_  

 “Can I borrow your silver knife?” asked Harry.

She nodded, keeping her eye on the cauldron, hoping that the color change was just delayed.   
She started stirring again.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven._

Glaring, she hissed, “Why aren’t you working?” Going back to the book, she looked over the instructions and relayed her preparations in her mind. She was absolutely positive that she followed the instructions perfectly. Like she always had.

Frantic, she looked up at the large clock hanging above Slughorn’s desk. Only fifteen minutes left. Only fifteen minutes to prove to her new professor that she is most _definitely_ the brightest witch of her age and completely capable at brewing new potions, not just recognizing them.

_Stir seven times anti-clockwise. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. NO._

She looked at her book, opening it up to the beginning, it had been reviewed and updated just last year. Glancing around the room, she saw that almost every one of her classmates had looks of frustration on their faces. Almost everyone.

“ _How_ are you doing that?” questioned Hermione, looking at Harry’s pale pink potion.

He looked rather pleased with himself, “Add a clockwise stir-”

“No!” snapped Hermione, “No! The book says counterclockwise.”

Harry shrugged and went back to his potion. She stared resolutely at him as he added a clockwise stir, turning his potion paler and paler.

Staring down at her potion, still a dark purple, and for one hysterical second, she thought about adding that extra clockwise stir.

_No. No. The book says to stir seven times counterclockwise. Don’t be stupid, Hermione. Just follow the instructions._

_One. Two. Three. Four. Fi-_

“And time’s… up!” cried Slughorn, “Stop stirring please!”

Hermione looked up, horrified. Her potion wasn’t done! It wasn’t clear at all, still that deep purple.

Slughorn nodded with a slight approval at her potion, making her cringe.

_So much for making a good impression._

Once he reached Harry’s a look of delight spread over his face. A look that should have reserved for her potion.

“The clear winner! Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are – one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”   
Harry quickly slipped the bottle into his pocket, trying to smoother his look of triumphant, but failing spectacularly.

She was not the only livid person in the room. Terry Boot had a scowl on his face, his ears were a bright red and he was fumbling with putting his book in his bag, shooting glances behind him at Harry. Padma Patil had not bothered to clean up the mess on the table, choosing instead to sit down, arms crossed tightly across her chest, and glaring openly at Harry. Malfoy looked like was read to leap across the room, strangle Harry and pry the bottle of Felix Felicis from his limp fingers. At this point, Hermione might have even helped him.

“How did you do that?” whispered Ron, looking at his own potion, thick and dark.

“Got lucky, I suppose,” Harry whispered back, looking around the dungeon.

Hermione looked down at his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ , full of “corrections” and markings, and withstood the urge to snort loudly and smack Harry upside the head with the book.

 

* * *

 

Hermione Granger was in a foul mood.

Harry was blatantly cheating, and, thanks to her sense of Gryffindor loyalty, she hadn’t found the time to report it just yet.

Stan Shunpike was arrested under false pretenses of being a Death Eater.

Ronald was acting like an _absolute idiot_ in front of Lavender Brown.

Theo was growing steadily more and more withdrawn. Ignoring her in hallways, skipping their study sessions. The color and weight he had gained over the summer, that made him look so healthy and happy, had all but disappeared. She was tempted to borrow Harry’s map, just to make sure that he was eating something.

She hexed a fellow student to help Ron get on the Quidditch team. Granted, that student was none other than Cormac McLaggen, (who was a heavily debated topic between Parvati and Lavender) a disgusting human being, who leered at her in the stands, making her pull her cloak closely around her, and made despairing remarks about Ron’s and Ginny’s upbringing (and he had to be an idiot to do that in front of her, everyone knows that her and Ron are best friends). But still, she hexed him. She was a Prefect for God’s sake.

And Katie Bell was cursed.

And Harry was absolutely certain that Draco Malfoy had something to do with it.

Topping all this off, the sleepless nights, full of studying and tea, made her Prefect rounds seem even longer than usual.

Ron had suggested that they split up for their patrols, “To cover more ground more quickly,” as he put it. Hermione knew that he was just avoiding her, avoiding a conversation that she wanted to have with him, though God knows why she actually wanted that. They agreed to meet at the Common Room at midnight, hopefully before Harry got back from his lesson with Dumbledore.

She walked with her wand out, tapping it nervously along her thigh. The torches lit the hallways, casting creepy shadows on the walls.

Hermione froze. A long shadow was moving closer to her, irregular heavy footsteps echoed in the hall. She lifted her wand when she saw a figure approach her, coming around the corner.

It was Draco Malfoy. Stumbling. Glazed eyes. Approaching her at an angle, seemingly unable to walk in a straight line. It was an extremely pissed Draco Malfoy.

_Just my luck._

“Granger! What are you doing here?” He sounded oddly cheerful.

“I’m patrolling. You’re out of bounds, it’s past curfew.”

“Is it?” He took another step towards her.

He had definitely been drinking, Hermione could smell the cinnamon from the Firewhisky.  
Hermione kept her wand lifted, “You’re not supposed to be out of bed, Malfoy. Ten points from Slytherin. Now, go back to your common room, please. I don’t want to have to deal with you right now.”

“Pssssssshhhh. You can’t tell me what to do,” he waved his hand clumsily.

_Is this actually happening to me?_

“Actually, I can. I’m a Prefect and you’re not, remember? Go to bed Malfoy, before I get Professor Snape.”

Malfoy who had been swaying side to side, froze, looked up in horror at Hermione and whispered, “No. Not him.”

“He’s your head of house and you are obviously intoxicated-”

“No! Not him!” Malfoy was yelling now, still looking horror struck.

“But he’s-”

“No!”

“Malfoy, stop-”

“If you have to get anyone, get Slughorn, he’s the least threatening of all the professors.”

Hermione laughed sharply, at the ridiculousness of the situation, _not_ because that was absolutely true, “You are in no position to be arguing with me,” she rubbed her nose in frustration.

Malfoy groaned, “Just at least walk me to the common room, I’ve seemed to have forgotten where it is,” he glanced down the hall behind her, then over his shoulder.

_Why is this happening? Why, oh, why?_

“Absolutely not. You are capable of finding your own common room by yourself.”

“Granger. Please. I’m-” again, he looked over his shoulder, then leaned a bit closer to Hermione, making her lean back, and whispered, “I’m a bit intoxicated.”

Hermione wasn’t quite sure why she agreed, maybe it was how foreign the word “please” sounded coming from his lips, much like how he had whispered, “Thank you,” to her in that empty classroom just last term. Or due to the strong stench of alcohol coming off of him, she thought it quite possible that he had forgotten how to get to his common room.

She groaned loudly. Malfoy jumped back, surprised. “Another ten points from Slytherin. Come on, let’s go.”

They walked in silence for a while. Malfoy stumbled and tripped over his feet while Hermione walked slightly behind him, not wanting to have her back to him, greatly aware of Harry’s suspicions about the boy in front of her. She glanced down to his left arm, covered by his long robes.

“Why are you doing this?”

Hermione jumped, “Doing what?”

“Walking with me.”

“It’s my responsibility as a prefect. No, Malfoy- down these stairs here. God, how pissed are you?”

Malfoy plopped himself down on top of the stairs, breathing heavily, “Just give me a moment, my world is spinning.” His hair was a mess. Frizzy, loose curls were falling on his face. It gave Hermione extreme sense of satisfaction to see that he had curls as well, that he hid under what seemed like layers of potions and charms. She was just waiting for the perfect moment to bring this up, as he had been making fun of her curls for the past six years.

Hermione huffed and sat down next to him, her back pressed painfully against the bannister, not wanting to be too close to him.

“It’s your fault you know.”

Hermione sighed, “Sure thing, Malfoy.”

“No, it is,” He stood up, swayed for a second, then walked down the stairs with a death grip on the bannister.

“If you hadn’t talked to Theo, I wouldn’t be having any of these thoughts.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, following him. 

“You! With Theo!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, she had absolutely no patience for intoxicated people. Alcohol made people slow, lazy, and unaware of their actions, she had absolutely no idea why anyone would find that appealing.

“You know what I’m talking about, Granger. In that big head of yours. You know.”

“I don’t know. And please, my head isn’t big, it’s just my hair.”   
Malfoy paused on the landing and groaned, “Your hair!”

She reached up and touched a loose curl, “I know, I know, it’s atrocious. But really, you have no room to talk, have you looked in a mirror lately?”

He shook his head, his own hair flying out in different directions, “No, it’s a problem, your hair!”

Hermione looked at him exasperatedly, wishing that he would just keep moving forward, she wanted to dump him at his common room and quickly forget this night had ever happened, “What?!” she yelled.

“You! It’s _all_ your fault. You getting better grades than me, you being friends with Theo, you getting my father sent to Azkaban, you and your… your hair,” he lifted a finger and wagged it at her, making her eyes widen, “It’s all your fault.”

_What the hell is happening?_

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?” She quickly cast a Tempus charm; she was supposed to be done patrolling in a half hour. She cursed Ron for leaving her alone. Malfoy wouldn’t have tried to talk to her if Ron was here. She silently debated whether she could just leave him and make her way up to the tower.

“How are you so good at everything? Nothing touches you, you’re above it all.”

_Oh, my god. He’s so drunk._

Hermione laughed, “Oh, you’re going to regret this tomorrow. If you even remember. Let’s get going.”

Malfoy looked forlorn at her, gripping the stair railing, “Can’t I just stay here?”   
Hermione crossed her arms, “You’re going to sleep on the stair landing?”

He looked appalled, “No! I’m not going to sleep here, but can’t we just stay here for a bit?”

He threw himself on the ground and laid on his back, arms and legs wide, as if he were about to make a snow angel on the floor.

_Really, no one would really know. He wouldn’t even remember. You could just leave him here. Let Flitch or another professor catch him. Let someone else deal with him._

“You said I was nice.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’d never say such a thing,” snapped Hermione.

Malfoy hummed, “But you did. After Christmas.”

Hermione was again remembered of that strange conversation with him in that empty classroom, a conversation that helped her accept Theo’s apology, a conversation that left her dazed and confused.

“I’m not very nice,” whispered Malfoy, so softly Hermione barely heard him, “I’m not. I’m awful. I’m cruel. I’m petty. I’m border-line evil.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” muttered Hermione. 

“I’m not stupid though. I’m quite intelligent. Did you know that I was so confused after you yelled at Theo, do you remember that? When I saw you both fight? I was confused as to why you felt so passionate about it, why you were so hurt,” he threw his hands in the air, and slapped them against the floor, “So, I did the obvious thing, I looked for a book.”

Hermione wanted to snort with laughter and bury her face in her hands, because she was sure that she had said the same exact thing dozens upon dozens of times.

“My mum always said that when I don’t understand something, I would obsessively find every book I could on the subject and read them all. She always teases me about that. But I couldn’t buy _every_ book on Muggle history, for obvious reasons,” Hermione again looked down at his left forearm, but thankfully Malfoy didn’t notice. He was caught up in his own story, his grey eyes bloodshot and wide with passion, “So I went on a mission… a mission to Muggle London where I bought a book about Britain’s muggle history.”

He was still laying on the ground, legs and arms spread, “It was extremely interesting. Did you know that Britain’s slave trade was abolished in 1807? I was appalled! That was so recent!”

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, _you_ own slaves.”   
Malfoy widened his eyes, “I do not!”

“The name Dobby ring a bell?”

Malfoy waved his hand, “Eh, that’s different.”

“How is it different?” she asked in a high voice.

“He’s a house elf.”

Hermione huffed, “Ignorance. Pure ignorance. You find it appalling that another person could own another human being, but make it a house elf and it’s-”

“Tell me, Granger,” he sat up and leaned against the wall, legs splayed out, looking remarkably sober, “Have you ever met a house elf?”

“Of course, I have. I-”

“And not Dobby, Dobby is a… one of a kind, to put it kindly.”

Hermione fidgeted, thinking of Kreacher, “I’ve been to the kitchens. So, I’ve met the elves there.”

Malfoy laughed, a deep belly laugh, that echoed in the stairwell. Hermione looked around, suddenly aware that they were completely alone.

“Have you really?”

She raised her chin, “Yes, I have.”

“Damn. I lost a bet with Blaise.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll forget about this by morning.”

He laughed again, his mouth open wide, showing off his perfect white teeth. She had never seen him laugh like this before. So open and care free. His hair shining in the torchlight. It would be a nice look on him if it weren’t so unnerving.

“Most likely, Granger, most likely. I am quite pissed. Drinking to forget, as my _dear_ father would say. What were we talking about? Ah, yes. House elves. Kitchens. Bet with Blaise. The thing is with house elves is that they don’t view it as enslavement, it’s just their job,” he paused, “And they _love_ their job.”

“They don’t get wages, so it’s not a job,” protested Hermione.

“If you tried to pay them, they would be deeply offended.”

“Because they’ve been brainwashed. They could have so much more, their lives could be so much more fulfilling, but they’ve been told they need to accept their role in life.”

Malfoy started at her, “Fulfilling for who?”

“I-” Hermione paused, gathering her thoughts, absolutely refusing to be stunned silent by _Draco Malfoy_.

“In general, they are treated extremely poorly, they work in unsatisfactory conditions and if we could change that, it would be more fulfilling for everyone, not just the elves,” she said, after a moment pause.

“And you want to do that.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Excuse me?”   
“How are you going to do that?”

Hermione spluttered, “Well- I-”

Malfoy laughed again. Hermione didn’t enjoy this laugh quite as much.

“You can’t,” he shook his head.

“Yes, I can. It won’t be a one step process. You can’t change generations of thinking in one step.”

Malfoy hummed, “First step?”

“Propaganda. Letting wizards and elves know that there are more and better options.”

Malfoy leaned forward on his knees, staring intently at her. She shifted under his gaze, heat flushing to her cheeks.

“I had a house elf when I was younger, Pipsy. She was so sweet and kind. I really did love her. I definitely liked her more than I cared for Father. He knew that too. He said that he didn’t like how she was caring for me, but I think that he thought I was going too soft, so he gave her clothes,” Malfoy paused and stared at his feet, “She climbed up four flights of stairs and threw herself down. She killed herself rather than be free.”

Hermione stared at him, thinking of Winky, drinking herself to death in the kitchens, tears growing in her eyes.

“Just be careful, when you’re out there, saving everyone, changing the world, becoming the Minster for Magic. Be careful.”

“I’m not going to be Minister,” Hermione said weakly.

Malfoy let out a bitter laugh, “Sure. And I’m not- I’m not-” He looked at his feet again. Gone was the happy, semi-delirious drunk Malfoy, now he looked extremely solemn.

For the first time that night, an awkward silence filled the space between them.

“Come on, Malfoy. You need to go to your common room.”

He stood up and made his way down the stairs. Hermione stood on the landing, watching him descend.

_I’ve been chased by a werewolf, spent half of my third year in the past, faced several Death Eaters, narrowing escaping with my life, been petrified by a basilisk, and many more, but this has been one of the strangest nights of my life._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Hermione isn't obsessed with Draco's hair.   
> No, Draco isn't obsessed with Hermione's hair.


	17. Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reading!

  _There he is._  

Theo was sitting in an armchair in a deserted corner of the library, with an obnoxiously large dusty book open in his lap.

“Hello there. Long time no see,” Hermione plopped herself down in the chair opposite, and grabbed her own obnoxiously large dusty book off of the shelf behind her, “Why aren’t you sitting at our table?”

Theo grunted and turned a page, “Greengrass.”

“Oh, yes. I did see her on the way in. I’ve never seen her in the library before, does your common room have a studying area?”

Theo grunted again.

_Seriously Theo? Don’t ruin my perfectly good day._

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “I guess our common room does, it has a bunch of tables available, and loads of people study there, but it gets so loud. It’s easier with Fred and George gone, last year was borderline ridiculous. There were literally lines and lines of first and second years vomiting into buckets or spouting bloody noses, it made it so difficult to study.”

Theo turned another page.

“Guess who I found wandering around drunk on the seventh floor two weeks ago?” Hermione asked, paused then said, “No? Okay. Well, it was Malfoy, staggering along the corridor absolutely reeking of Firewhisky and we actually talked too. Like a civil conversation. He’s been ignoring me, of course, but that’s not exactly out of character for him. Or maybe he was so pissed that he forgot about the entire evening, which also wouldn’t be surprising. Don’t you think he’s been a bit off since September?”

“Well, his father is in prison, that might have something to do with it.”  

“Yes. There is that. I should tell Harry that, he’s gone completely over the deep end concerning Malfoy. He’s at Quidditch practice now, I’ll tell him later. Have you eaten dinner yet?” (He hadn’t, Hermione had scoped the Great Hall for the entirety of the meal, waiting for him to show up) “I was thinking we could get a spot of tea from the kitchens.”

“I really need to finish reading this section, Hermione.”

Hermione huffed, “Okay, fine.”

Theo was looking intently at his book, eyes moving franticly back and forth. He was paler than ever, his long hair looked in need of a wash. He almost had a look of a young Severus Snape, without the hooked nose. Hermione bit back a laugh and thought that it wasn’t in her best interest to tell him that now, she should wait until he was in a better mood.

“Well, when you’re done reading, shall I tell you of the time that the one and only Ronald Weasley agreed to go on a date with me?”

_Rip._

Theo, who was in the middle of turning the page, tore it in half in his surprise. He _finally_ looked up at her with his mouth open wide.

“What?”  
Hermione beamed. She couldn’t quite help it, lately, smiles had been coming to her easier, even the dull cold weather hadn’t put a damper in her mood. She hated it. She hated that he had this much of an effect on her, but _Ronald Weasley was going to Slughorn’s party WITH HER._ She quickly told Theo about that fateful Herbology class, how she hadn’t even noticed Harry standing awkwardly in between them, how proud Ron had looked of himself, how she had floated back to the castle and hadn’t touched the ground since.

Theo stared at her, with his mouth agape, “I thought…”

“What?”

“I just didn’t think you guys would ever…”

Hermione giggled ( _Ugh. Giggled. Honest to god, giggled. Seriously, Granger? Get a grip_ ).

Theo smiled, his face brighter than it had been since they left the Burrow, “Congratulations, Granger.”   
Hermione smiled, relieved to see a bit of her old friend back, “Why don’t we go and sit at the table? That book has to be putting your legs to sleep.”   
He shifted in his chair, “I’d rather not, Hermione.”

Hermione looked at him in concern, “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” Theo turned back to his book and mended the ripped page with a tap of his wand.

“Theo, please.”

He sighed, “It’s been a bit difficult being back, but nothing I can’t handle.”   
“What exactly has been difficult?” questioned Hermione.

He paused, playing with the mended page, turning it back and forth, “Well, I’m now known as the blood traitor, which is fine, I thoroughly expected that. Blaise hasn’t said a word to me since last term. Crabbe broke my nose the first week, and he’s a bit better now, but I’m honestly terrified of Crabbe. He is extremely angry with me and he’s not exactly known for his anger management skills. And I think the only reason Draco hasn’t tried to hex me in my sleep is that my father was also arrested, and he doesn’t know that I spent the summer at the Weasleys.”

“Jesus. He broke your nose?!” Hermione’s voice rose in pitch, grateful that they were in a deserted area of the library.

Theo waved her off, “It’s fine. Draco actually healed me; I didn’t even need to go to the Hospital Wing.”   
“Did you tell a teacher?”   
“I’m not mad! They haven’t been spending as much time in the room lately, but they still sleep there, so I’m not going to go about getting them detention or make them lose house points.”

“But- but they need to know there are consequences for their actions! They need to know that they can’t just break your nose whenever they feel like-”

“You know what, Hermione?” Theo slammed his book shut, making Hermione jump, “They can. They can do whatever the hell they want, because the fact is, I fucked up their lives. I had a hand in sending their fathers to prison, so they can break my nose, they call me a blood traitor, because…” his voiced cracked, “that’s what I am now.”

“Theo…”

“Please. I don’t want to talk alright. I knew that this year wasn’t going to be easy, so I’m fine.”

Theo’s eyes were glazed over, and the tip of his nose had turned pink.

Everything in Hermione was dying to talk to him, to talk through his troubles together, “But Theo-”

“You can’t fix everything, Hermione,” he said with an air of finality. Hermione winced. “Let’s go get that tea.” He stood up, staggered under the weight of the book and placed it in his bag. The leather straps couldn’t close completely, the size of the book made it stick out comically on his side.

“Okay,” whispered Hermione, placing her own book back on the shelf.

She stopped him, pulling the sleeve to his robe, “You… you can’t just ignore me because you’re having a rough time. That’s not what friends do.”

Theo stood silently, shifting from foot to foot, “Okay. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” Theo wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her as close as his book filled bag would allow.

They walked silently towards the library, passing their abandoned table, and Daphne Greengrass studying with her little sister. The eldest looked up as they walked by and sneered, “Good evening, Mudblood… Blood traitor.”

Theo stumbled slightly, but continued to move forward, he grabbed Hermione’s arm and squeezed. But Hermione, ever the Gryffindor, couldn’t let Greengrass just get away with using those awful words.

“Ten points from Slytherin for crude language, Greengrass,” she slowed down as she passed the table, not even bothering to make a complete stop, “Next time, don’t call a prefect a Mudblood.”

As they passed through the large doors into the hallway, she glanced over at Theo and saw him smile at his feet.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, can I borrow your map?” Hermione had to raise her voice to be heard over the music and chatter in the common room.

Harry tore his gaze away from Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder, talking enthusiastically with Dean.

“What?”

“Your map. I need it,” she was trying very hard to not stare in the center of the common room, where Ron was currently intertwined with the lovely Lavender Brown, but she saw Harry glance over at his best friend.

“Yeah, here you go,” he pulled it out of his pocket, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” her voice was dangerously high, “I just need to find Theo, I have a question about our homework in Ancient Runes” (he wasn’t even taking Ancient Runes).

Glancing quickly at the map, she found Theo in an empty classroom on the sixth floor.

“Thank you.”

Her footsteps echoing in the empty hallways.

Her heavy breathing.

The sun descending over the distant mountains, the cotton candy sky with puffy grey clouds.

She wasn’t crying, but her nose was stuffed and runny. She ran the back of her hand over her upper lip.

Her footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

The slam of the door as she threw it open, with more force than she meant to.

“Hermione?” She saw the silver vapor of a Patronus fade away. His eyes were full of concern, “Are you alright?”   
A foreign sound erupted from her lips, incomprehensible mumbles and, oddly enough, laughter. Tears finally streaming down her cheeks, snot running down towards her mouth.

He rushed forward and enveloped her, wrapping his arms completely around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest, pressing her ear against his heart.

Everything felt like it was falling apart, everything that made sense before, was just a mass of confusion and heartbreak. But Theo. The steady thud of his heartbeat, soothing her, forcing her to slow her breathing. She felt safe in his arms.

* * *

 

_“Just ignore him. He doesn’t control you. He doesn’t control your emotions.”_

The words would have held more power if Hermione hadn’t been sobbing into Theo’s arms as he said this. But here she was, the next day, up bright and early, filling her plate with a ridiculous amount of eggs and sausages, knowing that she was going to eat ever bite. And most likely a scone or two.

“Morning,” Harry slid into the seat next to her, shooting her a nervous look.

“Good morning, Harry. Sorry I didn’t tell you, but congratulations on your game yesterday,” Hermione said brightly, “First one as captain too!” She was taking a large bite of a scone as the two people she wanted nothing more than to never see again, sat right across from her and Harry.

“Morning,” Harry mumbled.

“Morning you two,” said Hermione.

Ron froze as he was scooping sausages onto his plate.

“I was just saying congrats to Harry, Ron. On the game. I knew you could do it. You were bound to catch something eventually.”

Lavender smiled brightly, “Wasn’t he just wonderful? Didn’t see you get in last night, Hermione, and I was up pretty late,” Giggle. “Surprised to see you up so early,” her smile was genuinely happy, and it made Hermione feel sick to her stomach.

“Yeah, I was with Theo. We were studying.” _The most painful and humiliating things we are going to do to your boyfriend from now until eternity._

“Oh, Theo Nott! So,” Lavender leaned forward and whispered, “what exactly is happening between you two?”   
“Absolutely nothing. We’re mates.”

Lavender giggled, “But you spend all your free time together. There’s got to be something.”

Theo's voice rang in her head, _Scathing comments, which would normally piss him off, but he can’t get angry at you, because he knows that he is the dick in this situation. Smile and laugh, all the time, and that will confuse him, which will piss him off even more._

Hermione laughed, a bit too brightly, a bit too false, “Just because two friends spend time together doesn’t mean _anything_.”

Harry coughed into his tea.

Ron shifted in his seat.

“Morning Gryffindors,” Theo threw himself down in the seat next to her, placed a kiss on her cheek (Lavender raised her eyebrows), and started making himself a cup of tea. An epitome of grace, as always, as if he hadn’t avoided sitting with them for the past few weeks, to the point where even Ron had commented on it.

“Decided to join us again?” Ron asked good heartedly, his arm around Lavender’s shoulders. There was a look of relief on his face as he glanced back and forth between Hermione and Theo that quickly faded once he saw how Theo was looking at him. The look that said, _why are you talking to me, I am clearly above you._ It was so plainly Slytherin and Theo and absolutely lovely.

_Oh, I could replay this in my mind forever and ever. Thank you, Theo. You are officially my favorite person in the world._

Ron sunk into the bench and tightened his arm around Lavender.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Weasley,” Theo said as he stirred his third spoonful of sugar into his tea.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh. Is this going to become a thing, Malfoy?”

Ron had abandoned her again, but this time she wasn’t complaining. After a week, it was hard to keep up the aloof scathing comments that left both Ron and Harry wincing, while Theo stood in the background, arms crossed, smile on his face, like a proud parent. But that was until she came across a drunk Malfoy on a Saturday night.  

He walked unevenly towards her, this time stinking of sweet wine.

“Why hello!” Malfoy smiled at her, that pleasant smile that showed his perfectly straight white teeth, the smile that would have been nice to look at if it hadn’t been attached to her childhood bully’s face. His lips were stained pink.

“You’re drunk again.”

“Again?” he looked confused, “Oh, yes, that fateful night where I had completely forgotten where my common room was.”

Hermione stared at him, “You remember?”

“Of course, I remember. I drank half a bottle of Firewhisky, not the whole thing.”

 “Of course,” Hermione said weakly, “It’s not healthy, you know. Drinking alone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. My father does it all the time and he is the epitome of health,” Malfoy said, with a sly grin on his face. After a moment of stunned silence, he burst into laughter, doubling over and smacking his knee.

“I’m sure. Now, please, go to your common room.”

He leaned against the corner of the wall, the lit torches shining perfectly against his hair, making his whole head glow, “Don’t think I will Granger. I so enjoyed our conversation last time.”

She glared at him. In the hallways, during daylight, he parted crowds with just a look, his faithful gang of Slytherins following him patiently, not really bothered that they were living in his shadow. He was terrifying in the daylight, able to tear you apart with a single word, knowing exactly where to push you so that something would break inside of you. She had seen this plenty of times with him, taunting Harry with his dead parents, Ron with his family’s financial situation, her blood status, Neville with… just about everything. But here, in the firelit hallways, the sun long since gone, a drunk Malfoy wasn’t as threatening, it was… for lack of a better word: entertaining.

“I’d hate to have to report this to your head of house, Malfoy,” she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose, knowing that it was an empty threat, she avoided every opportunity to interact with Snape, especially since the end of last term.

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d love to, would you?” his words were slightly slurred, “Because you hate me. For a good reason too. I think that out of everyone, you most deserve an apology from me,” he paused, and tilted his head, “Well, almost everyone.”

“An apology? _You_ , Draco Malfoy, are going to apologize to me?”

Malfoy snorted, then clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide, “That was terribly rude of me… and I said you deserve one from me, not that you were going to get one.”

“Charming.”

Malfoy grinned wide again and ran his hand through his hair, “I am, aren’t I? Well, I must bid you goodnight, I must finish my Transfiguration homework tonight or dear Professor McGonagall will keep me in detention forever, and Merlin knows I don’t have time for that,” he started walked away, uneven on his feet, “I’ll see you next Tuesday Granger.”

“Tuesday?”

“Yes. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Those are the days you patrol,” he said, his voice growing quieter as he descended down the hall.

It wasn’t until three hours later when Hermione was on the verge of sleep, warm and comfortable in her bed, that she realized that she hadn’t even taken away points from him.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think I’m going to go.”

“You have to,” Theo protested, “It’s the ultimate get back at him. You were supposed to go together, and it’s, no offense, extremely pathetic if you just don’t show up.”

“Offense taken,” spat Hermione, “And besides, he’s not even going at all. Lavender’s not in Slug Club either.”

Theo winced, “I wish you’d stop call it that.”

“It’s the name of the club, Theo, what would you like me to call it?” snapped Hermione. She was quite cross at him, since he was the one making her go to Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party.

“Literally, anything else. Just not… Slug Club.”

Hermione sighed and went back to her book, _Quintessence: A Quest_ , Professor Flitwick had brought up several interesting points the previous morning, so Hermione was rereading it for the third time, in preparation for the end of term exams.

“Can’t I just go with you?” she asked, verging on the edge of whining.

“No. He likes me, and he knows that our feelings are strictly platonic.”

She sighed and looked around the library. Neville was franticly work on an eight-foot-long essay Snape had assigned the day before and told the class it was due at the end of the week. She wanted to invite him to their table, but Neville was still a bit uneasy around Theo, after that incident in the Department of Mysteries. Plus, she liked the fact that this table was just for the two of them.

“What are you going to do for the holidays?”

“Mrs. Weasley invited me to the Burrow. What about you?”

“I’m probably going to stay here.”

“For Christmas? By yourself?” Theo looked appalled, “Why don’t you come with me? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley adore you. Or you could go home. I’m sure your mum and dad would love to see you.”

Hermione groaned, burying her face in the pages of her book open on the table, breathing deeply, letting the scent of the printed pages sooth her. The topic of her parents was an awkward one. All the letters she sent to her family had been returned with rambling ones from her dad and short, curt ones from her mum. She knew that something broke between them last summer, it was as if her mum had finally realized that she had a witch for a daughter and wasn’t quite sure what to do with this information. And she couldn’t exactly complain to Theo about this, as his mother had died years ago, and his father was sent to prison shortly after he threatened to torture his own son for information.

“What?” Theo asked.

“Nothing. I’m just being a brat.”

The moment she lifted her head up, she made extremely awkward eye contact with Draco Malfoy, who was checking out a book from Madam Pince. His face flushed and he turned towards the exit, walking a bit too fast to be considered casual.

Theo, who had noticed this exchange, “What was that?”

Hermione, ears burning, said, “Why should I know? He’s just a bit strange, isn’t he?”

Theo hummed and looked at her suspiciously, “Sure thing.”

She had a strange thought, if she showed up to the party with Malfoy at her side. The look on Harry’s face. Ron’s explosive reaction. The idea made her want to bury her face in her book again and laugh out loud long and hard until her stomach hurt.

But suddenly, it was if the clouds were parted, Hermione thought of the perfect plan. And it came to her when Cormac McLaggen strut in, right after Malfoy speed walked out of the library. She started hitting Theo’s arm, “Look. Look.” 

Theo looked to where she was discreetly pointing, and grinned, “Oh yes. Perfect.”


	18. Love Potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter and the next was going to be one BIG chapter, but it was bit too big, so here's a longer chapter and the next will be a bit shorter than usual. 
> 
> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.
> 
> Happy Reading!

“Romilda!”

Hermione was in the bathroom stall, fixing her robes when a group of girls walked into the bathroom. She groaned inwardly, listening to the high giggles and hushed tones. Everything within her just wanted to go to the library, not deal with a pack of hormonal giggly girls. She was debating whether or not to just stay in the stall until they left when a hesitant voice said, “Isn’t that kind of immoral?”

A vaguely familiar voice scoffed and said, “Don’t be such a pussy. It’s not like it’s Amortentia. It’s from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, a fucking _joke_ shop. I’m just going to give it to him once. Just for the party.”

Another voice added, “ _If_ you’re the one to give it him, there are several in line you know.”

Giggles.

“But still…”

“Oh my God, Natalie. It’ll be fine. Can you imagine! Going to Slughorn’s party with the _Chosen One_?”

_You got to be fucking kidding me._  

“I’m thinking of a Gillywater. Does he like Gillywater?”

“Ew. Gillywater is disgusting. Put them in Butterbeer. Everyone likes Butterbeer.” 

Hermione unlocked the door and pushed it open. There had to be at least a dozen girls, ranging from third year to fifth year. Romilda Vane stood in the middle.  

“Alright, everyone. Hand it all over,” Hermione straightened her Prefect badge on her robes and extended her hand.

Vane smirked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Granger,” she folded her arms in front her chest and flicked her long curly hair over her shoulder. 

“The love potion. I heard you talking about _poisoning_ Harry! Hand it all over, every one of you.” 

“I’ll say it again, I don’t know about any love potion,” she leaned against the sink behind her, “None of us do.”

A chorus of “that’s right” and nods.

Vane crossed her ankles, spread her arms and lifted an eyebrow, “You can search me if you want.”

Hermione glared at her, a slight flush raising to her cheeks, “I’m serious, Vane. Don’t even think about going near Harry.”

Vane’s cheeks were red, her eyes bright, “You want him for yourself? Cause hate to break it to you, Granger. But he doesn’t want you,” she paused, “Neither of them do.”

Hermione’s heart ached. A fearsome, awful ache that she felt everywhere, from the top of her head, down to the tips of her toes. A deep ache that felt like it would never go away.

“You poison my best friend, and I’ll report you to McGonagall.”

She walked out of the bathroom, and almost made it to the library, only to realize that she never washed her hands. Groaning, out loud this time, she started towards the stairs to the bathroom on the second floor, refusing to go back to the one closest to the library. She was walking, head down when she ran into another student,

“Oh, I’m so-”

It was Malfoy. His eyes widened momentarily, then an awkward shuffle, both of them staring at their feet. He moved to the right the same moment she did. Then the left. Then the right again. Face burning, she stood stiffly and murmured, “Sorry.”

“Granger,” he whispered as he passed by her, sending chills up her arms.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” she blurted out, before her mind could catch up with her mouth, before her mind could scream at her, _that’s not a wise idea Hermione!_

He froze, leg lifted in the air, about to take a step, “About what?”

She sighed exasperatedly, “You know what I’m talking about. I _know_ you remember.”

He turned to face her, and she had to stifle a gasp. He looked absolutely awful, tired, possibly even sick. The dark circles under his eyes looked almost like bruises. His skin was had a grayish tinge, the tip of his nose was bright red, his eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I-” he started, lifting a hand up. He threw it back down to his side, hitting his leg with a loud _slap_ , “No. Probably not.”

_Figures._  

“Alright then. Thank you for being honest,” her voice was strained. She turned away from him, walking up, hoping, praying that the stairs wouldn’t start to move, trapping her in the same space as Malfoy.

With each step she took, she felt tears build up in her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure how many disappointments she could handle in one day. But then, she was surprised that she categorized Malfoy’s refusal to talk to her a disappointment. In a normal world, she would have welcomed a chance for Malfoy to refuse her.

“See you after Christmas, Granger,” he said this so lightly, so softly, she almost didn’t hear him. Blinking away the tears, she felt small smile grow on her face.

When she finally made it to the library, fifteen minutes later than she and Theo had planned, she was surprised to find Harry sitting down at their table as well. Theo had his nose stuck in a book and Harry was looking around the library awkwardly, holding that blasted Prince book, slapping it against his thigh.

“Sorry. I got held up. What are you doing here Harry?”

He looked offended, “I was looking for you. What did you think?”

She smiled sweetly at him and settled down in the chair next to him, “Most people come here to study, that’s why I was surprised to see you here.”

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny,” he was still slapping his potions book against his leg, oozing nervous energy, “Since you _refuse_ to enter the common room in the evenings with Ron-”

She cleared her throat loudly; Theo looked up from his book, narrowing his eyes, “Before I forget, Romilda Vane is looking to poison you with a love potion.”

“What?!” he raised his voice, several glares and loud shushes were thrown his way. He lowered his voice, “Poison me? With a love potion? Before you forget? How could you forget something like that?”  

“I have a lot on my mind, Harry,” she snapped, annoyed that he would mention Ron in her sacred place, “She was hoping for you to take her to Slughorn’s party, since you haven’t asked anyone yet. And not just her, about a dozen different girls. I overheard them in the restroom.”

“Why didn’t you confiscate the potions then?” demanded Harry, his voice still a bit too loud for a library, earning another glare from Theo, “You’re fucking Prefect!”

“Don’t swear at me Harry,” Hermione whispered, furiously, “They didn’t have the potions with them in the bathroom. They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt the Half-Blood Prince,” she gave the book a scornful look, he stopped his nervous tapping, “could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I’d just invite someone to go with you, that’ll stop all the other thinking they’ve still got a chance. It’s tomorrow night, they’re getting desperate.”

“There isn’t anyone I want to invite,” Harry muttered, looking down at his knees.   

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes while Theo let out a loud snort, then tried to cover it up with an obviously fake sneeze, and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“I’m _sure_ you mean that Harry. In the meantime, be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out her half-finished Arithmancy essay. Dipping her quill in her bottle of ink, Harry asked, “And who are you going with?”

Theo snorted again.

“Oh, shut up Theo. It was your idea.”

Theo finally looked up from his book, “It was not! He walked into the library and _you_ pointed to him!”

“You’re the one who said it would be pathetic if I didn’t show up at all.”

Harry hummed, “Well, that would have been kind of pathetic.”

“Piss off, Potter.”

Theo was looking back and forth between the two, a sly smile on his face.

“Just saying. You both were supposed to go together, and if you just stayed in your dormitory all night… It would have been a bit pathetic.”

“We,” Hermione waved her finger back and forth between them, “We are _both_ pathetic, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

Harry flushed, “Don’t avoid my question, Hermione.”

“Cormac McLaggen,” she said, after a brief pause and turned back to her essay.

An odd sort of splutter came out of Harry, like he was emerging from a body of water.

“McLaggen? Out of all people? McLaggen? Really Hermione? I thought you had more sense than that.”

“He’s not all bad,” Hermione muttered softly.

“Not all bad? He’s an arse.”

Hermione glared at him, “He’s a teenage boy, Harry. Of course, he’s an arse. Hate to break it to you, but all teenage boys are,” she paused and looked at the boy sitting opposite her, “Except for Theo. Theo’s lovely.”

Theo looked up at her and gave her the brightest smile. A smile that warmed her insides, a smile that made the ache in her heart hurt a little less.

Harry glared at them both and settled back into his chair. He opened his potion book and leaned forward on the table, he pushed his unruly hair back from his eyes, only to have it pop back into place a second later.

_He needs a haircut._

“Hang on moment, Filch banned anything bought at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”

“And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?” Hermione asked, dipping her quill in ink.

“But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into the school?”

“Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions. It’s part of their Owl Order Service.” 

“You know a lot about it,” accused Harry.

She glared at him, “It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me in the summer. I don’t go around putting potions in people’s drinks… or pretending too either, which is just as bad…”

Harry’s cheeks darkened, “Yeah, well, ever mind that,” he said quickly, “The point is, Filch is being fooled isn’t he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn’t Malfoy have brought he necklace into the school?” He sat back in his chair, looking triumphant. Theo looked up from his book, staring at Harry with an uneasy gaze.

_See you after Christmas, Granger,_ echoed in her mind.

“Not this again,” Hermione groaned, she looked at Theo, “I told you, he’s obsessed.”

“Yeah, mate. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree here. He’s a bit of a dick, but he’s not a… you know. A murder,” Theo said uneasily.

Harry leaned back in his chair, then quite suddenly glared at Hermione, suspiciously, “Have you-”

“Have I what?”

“Never mind,” he turned down to his book again.

“Look, Harry. Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don’t they? They’re used to find dark magic and ark objects. They’d have picked up a powerful curse, like the one in the necklace, within seconds. But something that’s just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn’t register- and anyway love potions aren’t exactly dark or dangerous-”

“Easy for you to say,” muttered Harry darkly.

“-so, it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn’t a cough potion, and he’s not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from-”

There was a shuffle from the bookshelf behind them. Fearing the worst, Ron and Lavender tight tightly around each other, Malfoy with that dead look on his face, or Filch, with an accusatory expression. But it was Madam Pince. She breathed a sigh of relief. Madam Pine doesn’t exactly have favorites, but Hermione was a regular attender of the library and always returned her books back to the shelves, with love and respect. Hermione felt sure that she would never kick her out of the library.

“The library is now closed,” she said.

Hermione looked around anxiously for a clock, it couldn’t be closing time already!

“Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct- what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?”

Harry snatched up his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ off the table before the librarian could snatch it up, “It isn’t the library’s, it’s mine!”

“Despoiled!” she hissed, “Desecrated, befouled!”

Theo, grinning madly, looked as if his favorite program had come on.

“It’s just a book that’s been written on!”

Theo was stifling giggles now.

“Get out, all of you!” Madam Pince glared.

“What? Me too?” Theo and Hermione said in unison. 

“Out! Out! The library is closed!”

Hermione spotted a clock, the library wasn’t supposed to be closed for another hour, but she was not going to argue with an enraged librarian. The trio packed their belongings quickly. Hermione was mortified. Kicked out of the library!

_All thanks to that stupid, stupid book._

“Thanks Harry,” she said sarcastically, “Why did you have to bring that stupid book?”

“I’m this way,” Theo said, pointing down the hall in the opposite direction, “I’ll see you lot tomorrow.”

Harry and Hermione said their goodbyes and made their way towards the staircase, quietly bickering.  
“It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or do you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something between them…” 

“Oh, ha ha…”

Harry grinned at her and threw an arm around her shoulders. His face was dimly lit by the torches that lined the walls. The light darkened his hair, a stark contrast to how it lit up Malfoy’s hair, to the point where it was hard to look at him.

“Have you told Theo?”

She snapped her head towards him, thinking that he was talking about her and Malfoy’s midnight conversations, but quickly realizing that there was no way he could have known about them.

“What are you talking about?" 

“About my meetings with Dumbledore.”

“Of course not!” Hermione cried.

“Okay. Okay,” he released her shoulders and rubbed his nose, pushing his glasses up to his forehead, “Of course you haven’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re Hermione! You would never tell. I just thought that… You told him about- about Malfoy and-”

“Harry, it’s fine. I haven’t told anybody. I wouldn’t tell anyone unless you said it was okay. And even then, I would question it.”

“Right. I know that,” he sounded like he was reassuring himself.

They walked in silence to the staircase, where Hermione grabbed him by his arm, and pulled him close to her.

“I’m not replacing you, Harry. You’re my brother. My best friend.”

“I know.” His voice thick with emotion. 

“And Ron is an absolute arsehole, but he’s not replacing you either.”

“I know,” breathed Harry.

They stood for a moment, breathing in and out together; finding comfort in each other’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was crying in the bathroom.

_Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy. And you’re a stupid girl Hermione. All the intelligence in the world and you let a_ boy _reduce you into this. Why do you let him effect you like this?_  

She tried to muffle her cries in her hand, wanting nothing more than to go to her room, release a silencing charm around her curtains and sob. Sob until the ache in her chest was dull and numb.

“Hello?” came a soft voice.

She quieted her cries and took several gasping breaths.

“Are you alright in there?”

_Luna. It’s just Luna._

Hermione, still sitting on the closed toilet lid, leaned forward and unlocked the stall door. It creaked open to reveal a concerned looking Luna. Her long wavy hair piled high, almost the size of her head. Her radish earrings sparkled in the afternoon light.

“Oh! Hermione, I was sure it was either you or Moaning Murtle in there.”

“Thanks Luna,” Hermione said flatly.

“Anytime, Hermione. What seems to be the matter?”

Her words were so light and full of concern, it made Hermione’s throat close up and her eyes fill with tears again.

She was blubbering, “Ron… it was the moustache. And Lavender… They just laughed… I’m so stupid.”

Luna joined her in the stall and kneeled on the floor in front of her. Hermione wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t be on the floor, it was so dirty, but her throat felt thick and heavy, and she was unable to get the words out. Luna took Hermione’s hands and squeezed.

“You’re not stupid, Hermione. You’re quite intelligent. Just sometimes you don’t see things that are right in front of you.”

_I swear to God, if she mentions Nargles…_

But she didn’t. Luna just gave Hermione a wonderful smile and pulled herself to her feet. Still clasping Hermione’s hand, she led her to the mirror on the opposite wall, “Your hair is a bit messy, let’s see if I can fix it.”

Hermione gave her a watery smile and looked in the mirror. Her hair was twice the size it normally was, her kinky curls seemed to be defying gravity, “It’s always a bit messy, Luna.”

Luna laughed, Hermione was reminded of Tinker Bell, “That’s quite true. It doesn’t mean it looks bad. It’s purely you,” she started running her fingers through her hair, occasionally getting her finger caught in a knot, “Just because something is messy, doesn’t mean it’s beautiful.”  
Hermione eyes welled up again. She brushed them away while Luna started making complicated twists and turns with her hair.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

Luna smiled, “I’m spending it with Daddy. He does miss me while I’m away.” She was making her way around Hermione, creating a complicated plait that went around her head, off of her neck, “What about you? Are you going home?”

“I think so,” whispered Hermione.

Luna laughed, “Well you better get on that, Christmas break starts tomorrow!”

Hermione smiled, “Yeah. I think I’ll go home. Mum and dad left it to me. They’re going to be spending time at my grandparents, and it’s a bit difficult to explain where I’m going to school. They’re all so curious, but we can’t tell them anything.”

Luna hummed, “That must be difficult for your parents.”

“Yes, it is. I mean, I know that they’re proud of me. I know that. They’re so proud of me, even though they don’t understand,” the words came tumbling out of Hermione’s mouth, fresh tears popped up in her eyes, “They don’t understand magic, because it’s magic! How can they understand it? _I_ don’t fully understand it, and I’ve been studying it since I was eleven!” Luna finished with the plait and was tying it off with a rubber band and several pins she produced from her pocket.

“And then they have to lie to their families? Lie about where I am nine months out of the year. Lie about my GCSE results. Lie about who I am. And now, I’m lying to them, my own parents! I can’t even tell them about the war that’s bound to happen. About the Department of Mysteries, because they won’t understand, and they’ll pull me away. They’ll pull me away to something that they _do_ understand, and I can’t do that,” Luna pulled away from her, admiring her handiwork.

“I can’t do that, it’s not who I am,” she whispered.

Luna reached up and cupped Hermione cheek, “I know. But you should go home for Christmas. Tell your mum and dad that you love them.”

Hermione nodded. Luna let go of her face and pulled Hermione into an embrace, holding her tight. When she pulled away, Hermione had tears in her eyes again. Luna patted her on top of her head and lead out of the bathroom.

“Oh, hello, Harry,” said Luna, her hand now on Hermione’s back, “Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?” 

Harry was standing there with a guilty look on his face, and indeed, one his eyebrows was still a bright yellow. “Hi, Luna. Hermione, you left your stuff…”

He held out her books and pencil case she had left in Transfiguration and, much to her chagrin and horror, she started tearing up again.

“Oh yes,” she said thickly, wiping her eyes on her pencil case, “Thank you, Harry. Well, I’d better get going...” she walked away quickly, not wanting to see the look of pity on Harry’s face.

She decided to head back to her dormitory, to skip lunch to freshen up, she was almost to the staircase when she ran into Theo.

“There you are. I was looking for you. I have a question for-” he paused and observed her with narrow eyes, for a moment Hermione thought he was going to question her about her swollen red eyes and nose, “Your hair looks nice.”

She smiled at him, ever so grateful that Theodore Nott was in her life, “Thank you. Luna Lovegood did it.”

“She alright her. A bit… you know. But she’s alright.”

“Yeah. She’s alright.”

“Come to lunch with me?” he asked.

Hermione sighed, then nodded.

They entered the Great Hall together, Theo questioning her about their latest Charms assignment. Being in each other’s constant company did not come as a surprise to anyone anymore. Not even when Theo made his way to the Gryffindor table. If anyone had questioned Theo’s presence, they earned a good hard glare from Hermione, which was enough to make any man cower in fear.

“Hey, let’s sit with Creevey.”

“Dennis?”

“No, the other one.”

Collin was sitting by himself at the Gryffindor table, his potions book open, reading with such intent, his eyes looked crossed. He was eating a piece of roast beef; with every other bite he was taking, he completely missed his mouth, shoving a forkful of meat into his cheek.

“He’s hilarious,” laughed Theo. 

“Hello, Collin,” Hermione smiled, settling herself down in front of him.

Collin gulped hurriedly, “Hi, Hermione. Theo.”

“How goes your studying?” asked Theo.

Collin groaned goodheartedly, but said, quite sincerely, “I’m dying. I don’t know how you lot did your O.W.L.s and the DA last year. I’m up to my ears in books and essays.”

“It’s easy,” said Theo, “Just don’t sleep.”

Collin laughed nervously, as though he was worried it might just have to come to that.

“You’ve got a bit-” Theo pointed to his cheek.

Collin picked up a napkin and wiped his face, “Hey, Hermione. I’ve actually been working up the courage to talk to you about something.  
Hermione froze in the middle of scooping potatoes onto her plate, thinking of Slughorn’s party.

_Please. God. No._

“You’re a Muggle-Born too and I had some questions.” 

Hermione let out a breath, “Sure thing.”

Collin set aside his book and stared down at his plate, “I tried to talk to Dean about it, but- It’s just that-” he paused, picking at his food.

“What is it Collin?” Hermione and Theo had both put their utensils down, staring hard at the small boy sitting opposite them.

“I’m- I’m not stupid. I know I’m not smartest, but I’m _not_ stupid. I read the newspaper every day… and it’s getting worse. You-Know-Who.”

He was still staring intently at his plate.

“Even Dennis, he doesn’t even bother with the paper, just reads the Quidditch section,” he laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “But he knows that something has shifted. And it’s going to get worse before it gets better… If it gets better, "He took a deep breath, “Have you done anything for your parents? Wards or anything? Should we- should we be protecting them? Is it that bad?”

Hermione swallowed, her throat feeling dry, “There’s just a simple ward surrounding their home, _Protego Totalum_. I owled Professor Lupin after- after the Tournament, and he did it. There’s not much else we can do. Even then, that was complicated, because they’re Muggles. They need to be able to find their own house.”

Collin smiled, “Yeah. That’s a bit of a problem,” he took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, “Do they know?”

“My parents?”

“Yeah, about all of this?” he waved his fork through the air.

Theo was looking between the pair, a frown on his face.

“No. I haven’t told them anything?”

“Anything?” asked Collin. She nodded.

Collin hummed, “All my parents know about is the Chamber of Secrets. And even then, not everything, just the Basilisk. Not- not all this. The disappearances and such. After that letter Dumbledore sent my family, it was hard for them to let me come back, let alone let Dennis come after he got his acceptance letter.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, “What letter from Dumbledore?”

Collin took a drink from his goblet, “After I was petrified. Dumbledore or McGonagall, I can’t remember which, sent a letter to my family explaining how I was hurt.”

“Your- your family got sent a letter?”

“Mmhm, didn’t yours?”

“No,” Hermione said sharply.

“Oh,” Collin took a huge bite and spoke with his mouth full, “Maybe because they were almost done with the Mandrake Restorative Draught? How long were you petrified?”

“Almost two months,” Hermione throat felt dry. She shakily lifted her goblet to her lips and took a gulp of Pumpkin Juice.

Collin nodded, drained his goblet, then grabbed his book, “Maybe it was for the better, you _have_ gotten into a bit of trouble since your first year, maybe it’s better they don’t know,” he grinned.

Hermione laughed weakly, trying to push down the feeling of anxiety growing in her chest, “Yeah. They might have not let me come back.”

Collin nodded, “Yeah, that was a fight to remember. They made me promise that I would be careful and that I would take care of Dennis. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that a second year isn’t the best in the line of defense, you know. But it’s all magic to them. Like, real, real, magic, you get me?”

Hermione nodded.

He lifted one leg over the bench, “Sometimes, I wish I could make them forget, you know? Just so they don’t worry too much, if this does get too bad,” he played with the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder, “Does that make me a bad person?”

Hermione smiled and shook her head, “No, Collin. You’re not a bad person okay? You just want to protect them. They’re your parents. And- and we are magic. Magic to them at least.”

He smiled brightly and let out a laugh, “Sorry about all that, I just wanted to know if you’ve done anything to your house. I know I’m not… Harry Potter’s best friend, you know, but I still want them safe. Should I owl Professor Lupin?”

Hermione head felt light, “No, set up a meeting with Professor McGonagall and ask if she can put you in touch with someone to set up some wards for your parents. You never know who’s reading the mail.”

Collin was nodding along to every word she said, “Sounds good. Thanks a bunch Hermione. I’ll see you both later.”

“Bye,” Theo and Hermione said in unison.

Hermione poked at her potatoes. Theo was quickly draining his goblet of water. The sound of utensils clanking against plates, the dull roar of conversations, Seamus chewing so very loudly just a few seats away, it was all deafening.

“Why didn’t they get a letter?”

Theo put down his goblet, “Are you complaining?”

“No. I just- I don’t understand why they didn’t send a letter. I was in the Hospital Wing for two months, petrified. Two months, Theo. I could have died at thirteen years old. And they told everyone else’s family but mine?”

“We don’t know if they contacted other people’s parents. Besides, Collin was the first one to be petrified right?”

“No. Mrs. Norris was,” Hermione fidgeted with her fork. 

“The first person then.”

Hermione hummed and picked at her food.

Theo let out the most exasperated sigh that Hermione had ever heard, “Fine.”

She put down her fork, “What?”

“Come on, let’s look for the others. Who else was it? Clearwater? She’s long gone. They couldn’t exactly contact Nearly Headless Nick’s parents, could they? That leaves Fletchley. Let’s go find him.”

Hermione placed down her fork and scanned the Hufflepuff table for Fletchley's dark hair.  

“He’s not here.”

Theo groaned, “Now, I have to talk to Macmillan. I can’t stand that guy.” 

“He’s not all bad.”

“You know what Hermione, you said the same thing about McLaggen, and that guy is a dick.” 

“Oh, my God. I’m already regretting asking him,” she placed her head in her hands.

Theo nodded, “You should. He’s a dick.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Go with McLaggen? I don’t blame you, but it’s a bit too late to find another date. You might-”

“No. I don’t want to ask Fletchley. Or Macmillan.”

Theo stared at Hermione, “Then don’t.”

“Maybe it’s better," Hermione said slowly, "if I just don’t think about it. You know?”

“I don’t know,” said Theo slowly, “Don't think about it? This doesn’t sound like you. Are you doing okay?”

_Such a loaded question. Am I doing okay? I think I am. I just feel like I’m going crazy sometimes. Like I’m being pulled in two different directions, that if one side pulls with just a bit more force, it might rip my arm clear off and I’ll never recover._

_The boy I’ve loved since he broke my heart at fourteen years old has broken me again._

_I want to hug my dad. I want my mum._  

“I’m fine. It’s just that it’s Christmas soon. I can deal with it later, yeah?”


	19. A Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.
> 
> Happy Reading!

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck where you thinking Hermione Granger? What the fuck._

She was receiving the worst kiss of her life, which wasn’t saying much, as this was her fifth ever kiss.

One, quick and chaste, with her neighbor, Charles Bailey, at ten years old.

Two, soft and lovely; Three and Four, long and passionate, with Victor.

Five, wet and much too much, with Cormac McLaggen. He had his hands in her hair, messing up the lovely plait Luna had made earlier that afternoon and his other hand was wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her close to his too warm body. He tasted like Butterbeer and minty toothpaste. She flinched away from a hardness growing against her. 

_This isn’t worth pissing off Ron._

She pulled away from him, and chuckled awkwardly, “We should probably head in.”

They were just outside the entrance to Slughorn’s office. She could hear the chatter, gentle clink of glasses, music and laughter.

“But we’re here now. Why don’t we stay a while,” he said, grabbing her by her waist again.

She cleared her throat loudly, “I don’t think so. I invited you to the party. Not a snog underneath mistletoe.”

He let her go and sighed loudly, “That’s what a date is, isn’t it?”

She laughed bitterly, “No. It isn’t. Thank you, but no thank you.”

She turned and walked swiftly down the hall, towards Slughorn’s office, only to see Malfoy standing at the end of the hall, with a blank look on his face.

“Oh, you’re just everywhere nowadays, aren’t you, Malfoy? Are you following me?” she said, exasperated. 

He opened and closed his mouth, looking lost for words. He was still in his school robes, still looking like he was recovering from being on the losing end of a fight. It would have been comical if she hadn’t just been snogging Cormac under the mistletoe. She felt mortified that he might have witnessed that.

“Oi!” Cormac came up behind her and placed an arm around her bare shoulders. She flinched. The dress she had chosen was a deep blue and exposed her shoulders to the cold. Back in her dorm, observing herself in Parvati’s mirror, she felt pretty, her hair up and off of her shoulders, but now she just felt open and exposed.

“Fuck off Malfoy. Before the Prefect here takes away points,” he said, squeezing her shoulders.

Hermione felt like mentioning that she hadn’t even taken points off when he was wondering around the seventh floor, several hours after curfew, reeking of alcohol and unable to walk straight.

“It’s not even curfew yet, Cormac,” she pushed him off of her, “Let go.” She pushed open the door to Slughorn’s office, not even bothering to see if he was following her, glancing down the hall just in time to see Malfoy’s angry pale face. She rushed forward, ducking and pushing her way into the crowded room.

She saw several house-elves making their way around the crowd with large platters of food, almost twice the size of them, and just as heavy. People weren’t even looking down when they grabbed food from the sliver trays. Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed. She grabbed a small sandwich and leaned down to thank the elf, only to get a wide eye look and a squeak in reply.

“Hermione! Hermione!”

She braced herself, thinking that Cormac was looking to join her, but it was just Harry, looking smart in his dark robes and Luna, lovely in her loud silver ones.

“Harry! It’s just you. Hi Luna!”

“Oh, your hair!” Luna cried, rushing forward to fix the mess that Cormac had left.

“What’s happened to you?” asked Harry.

“Oh, I’ve just escaped- I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said, he looked puzzled, “Under the mistletoe.” Luna was humming in her ear, pulling and twisting her hair back.

“Ew. Gross. I didn’t need to hear that.”

“You asked!” retorted Hermione.

He rolled his eyes. Luna stepped back and nodded approvingly at Hermione’s hair.

“Thanks Luna.”

The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblet of mead on the way, realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone.

_Shit._

“Hello,” Luna said politely.

Hermione rolled her eyes and was quietly planning her escape when Harry leaned over, “Let me get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron you interfered at Keeper tryouts?”

She scoffed, “Do you really think I’d stoop that low?”

“Hermione, you’ve been insulting him any chance you get. And if you can ask out McLaggen-”

“There’s a different,” Hermione spat, “I’ve got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts.”

“Good,” Harry said firmly, “Because he’ll just fall apart again, and we’ll lose the next match-”

“Quidditch!” Hermione threw her hands in the air, the goblet of mead sloshing over the sides, her eyes prickling, “Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn’t asked me one single question about myself, no, I’ve just been treated to A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen, and the absolute _worst_ kiss I’ve ever- oh no, here he comes!”

She slipped underneath Luna’s arm and ducked behind a tapestry. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself.

 _I want to be in my pajamas, in my bed, reading a book with the curtains drawn. Instead, I’m hiding from a boy._ She huffed angrily. _I’m hiding from a boy. A stupid boy._

A voice that sounded awfully like Theo, _No. You are Hermione Granger. You faced a werewolf. You went back in_ time _to save a man’s life. You’ve looked into the eyes of a goddamn Basilisk. You are Hermione fucking Granger. You will_ not _hide from a boy. Pull yourself together._

She started bouncing, full of energy and confidence from her pep talk. Quickly downing the rest of the mead, she wiped the back of her head across her mouth and stepped out from behind the curtain just in time to see Filch dragging Draco Malfoy by the ear, wheezing, “I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?”  
For one hysterical moment, Hermione thought he was here to see her. It was Thursday wasn’t it? He had recited her schedule, saying that he would be there, meeting with her, on the sixth floor. Hadn’t he?

“All right, I wasn’t invited!” he said angrily. “I was trying to gatecrash, happy?”

“No, I’m not!” said Filch, with creepy grin on his face, “You’re in trouble, you are! Didn’t the Headmaster say that night-time prowling is out, unless you’ve got permission, didn’t he, eh?

“That’s all right, Argus, that’s all right,” said Slughorn, waving a hand. “It’s Christmas, and it’s not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we’ll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco.”

Filch let go of Malfoy with a look of disappointment. He straightened out his robes, looking rather out of place among the fancy party clothing.

Malfoy and Slughorn were talking quietly with each other, the latter looking quite cherry, most likely due to the amount of mead he had consumed. Snape was standing near and, oddly enough, was giving Malfoy a glare that he normally reserved for Harry. Quite suddenly, Snape turned around, his robes trailing behind him as Malfoy followed him out the doors.

Harry sat up straight and she heard him say to Luna, “I’ll be back in a bit, Luna… bathroom.”

 _Oh, no you don’t Harry Potter._  

He was practically jogging towards the exit, Hermione had to run to catch him. Grabbing him by his arm, she pulled him back.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Malfoy and Snape,” he said, his eyes wide, a bit of a mad glint in them, he started pulling her towards the exit, “I know he’s up to something Hermione.”

“No, you don’t Harry! For once in your life, just drop it!”

“No, Hermione.” He pulled his arm away. They were out of the party now, in the empty corridor. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and threw it over his head. He offered a corner to her, “Are you coming or not?”

Hermione groaned, loudly. Harry flinched and looked around, but they were quite alone. She slipped under the cloak.

They walked the length of the empty corridor, Harry stopping at every classroom and pushing his ear on the door. At the last classroom, they both heard voices.

“I hope you’re telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it.” Snape sounded irritated.

“Who suspects me?” Malfoy asked angrily, “For the last time, I didn’t do it, okay? Bell must’ve had an enemy no one knows about- don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, but it won’t work- I can stop you!”

Hermione could hear Harry’s heavy breathing; they locked eyes.

Snape said quietly, “Ah… Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?”

_Master._

Harry’s breath hitched.

Malfoy’s voice was strained, “I’m not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don’t want you butting in!”

Harry raised his eyebrows. How was Malfoy talking to teacher like this?

“So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco-”

“So, put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!” yelled Malfoy.

After a pause, Snape said, “You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things.”

“Stop telling me to come to your office then!”

“Listen to me. I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco-”

“Shit,” gasped Malfoy.

“Draco.”

Hermione could hear loud gasping, deep uneven breaths and the low rumble of Snape’s voice.

“Talk to me, Draco. What is your plan? _Everything_ hinges on this.”

Hermione looked at Harry again, this felt wrong. Wrong to be eavesdropping like this, wrong to be witnessing such a raw moment, even if was just Malfoy and Snape. Harry was avoiding her eyes.

“It’s my job. It’s my job. He gave it to me, and I’m doing. Not you. _Not you_. What did you promise?”

“Draco-”

“No!” yelled Malfoy, “What did you promise? And- get the fuck out of my head!” he raised his voice into an awful scream, almost a sob.

“Keep your voice down, you foolish boy. I am merely trying to assist you.”

“I have all the assistance I need, thanks, I’m not alone!”

“You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors with lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes-”

“What does it even matter to you?! Just leave me alone. I have a plan. It’s my job. My fucking job. You’re- you’re trying to steal my glory!” Malfoy’s voice was high and hysterical. They no longer had to press their ears against the door to hear them.

“You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father’s capture and imprisonment has upset you, but-”

“Like I give a fuck about my father.”

Silence rang through the corridor.

“Draco. Do not say things as-”

“I don’t care. My mum-” his voice cracked, “ _He’s_ there. And my mum- We both have to- And my father’s not even fucking there.”

“Draco,” Snape warned, “Your mother knew exactly what she was getting into. She is a supporter of the cause. She understands that-”

“My father gave me to him. Like a lamb at a slaughterhouse,” Malfoy said coldly, “She _loves_ me. She didn’t understand.”  

“If you are to complete your mission, if you are to go home for Christmas, you mustn’t talk this way. Especially to me.”

“I don’t really expect to survive anyway.”

His footsteps echoed in the empty classroom. Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him away from the door, just a moment before Malfoy burst out of the classroom.

There was a moment where it seemed as if he was looking straight at them. The expression on his face made Hermione’s heart skip a beat.

Sorrow. Regret. Anger. Guilt.

It was an expression of boy who in over his head, on verge of giving up. Even Harry winced in sympathy. Then he turned and walked swiftly down the hall, his footsteps leaving an echo in Hermione’s mind. 

 


	20. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... I'm back! Thank you for your love and patience while I focused on another fic. You all are seriously the best.   
> Sorry, there's no Dramione in this chapter, but just wait until the next. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

“Dad!”

Rodger’s blue Ford Fiesta pulled into the loading zone, “Hello my dear. Would you like a lift?”

He stepped out of the driver’s seat and pulled Hermione into a close embrace. His jacket smelt of tea and laundry detergent, his chin buried into Hermione’s hair. It was all so familiar and homely, that she had to hold back tears. She buried her face close to his chest, breathing in the smell of home.

“Oh love,” he pulled away and narrowed his eyes at her, “You look tired.”

Hermione laughed, and rubbed her tired eyes, “Oh, you know. School.”

Rodger frowned, and strained to lift her heavy trunk into the car, “You take yourself too seriously, Hermione. Sleep is good for you every once in a while, you know.”

Hermione lifted Crookshanks carriage into the back seat, “You know, strangely enough, I think I’ve heard that somewhere.”

The drive home only took thirty minutes. The ride was filled with Rodger’s insistent chatter: workplace gossip, the new James Bond film, and how her mother was rereading _Jane Eyre_ for the tenth time, despite Rodger’s insistence that she read more than two books over and over again.

“You must tell us all about your term when your mother gets home, she’s taking over for me at the office. She wanted to come and get you of course, work is not that far away, but there was an emergency. It’s all quite funny, really. A young girl was playing football when the ball hit her right in the jaw! Knocked out her tooth implant, ironically from another football injury, and the tooth next to it came out as well! I told Rose that we ought to make a punch card for her, for every ten tooth injuries, you get the eleventh one free!” He laughed, slapping his knee as they pulled onto their street.

The white door, the looming willow tree in the backyard, peeking out from behind the house, towering over the chimney. Vines that climbed the red brick walls, full of bugs and spiders that Hermione used to study as a child, with her _Encyclopedia of Insects_ open on her lap, running over to the kitchen to show her parents a new insect.

She sighed in relief. Home.

Walking through the front door felt like a dream. The warmth hitting her like a wave. She crossed her arms and shivered.

“Are you cold? I could light a fire.” He was carrying her trunk up the stairs. Hermione let out Crookshanks, who meowed loudly, then took off running, most likely for the nearest bed to crawl under. He hated traveling.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Hermione called out.

“Excellent!” came her father’s voice from the upstairs, “Your mother is going to pick up some takeout for the evening. She wanted to cook, but I managed to convince her that it would you would love some Chinese from our usual. Thank God.”  
Hermione giggled, her mum wasn’t known for her cooking skills, despite her large collection of cook books on the shelves in the kitchen.

Rodger came down the stairs, panting slightly, “Good Lord, Hermione. I think next time you should pack less books. I swear that trunk weighs more than me.”

Hermione grinned, “Sorry dad. Couldn’t decide which books to bring home, so I brought all of them.”

He winked, “That’s my girl. Now, listen Hermione,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “Your mother is… trying, okay? She’s trying. She’s still disappointed about last summer-” A stab of guilt went through Hermione stomach, “But she’s made a new friend, our neighbor. Did we tell you that the Bailey’s moved? To France, of all places. Anyways, our new neighbor is an older lady, Mrs. Downs, and she’s been a bit of a comfort for your mother. They have tea together nearly every weekend, and Mrs. Downs is trying to encourage her to open up a bit more with you. I do wish you could meet her; she makes the loveliest biscuits, but she’s out on a holiday with her sister. But obviously, Rose didn’t tell her that you’re… a witch. In fact, I’m beginning to think that Mrs. Downs thinks you’re some sort of hippie or a in a cult, but that’s beside the point. She’s trying, so I think that she would like you to as-”

“Hello! I’m home!” came a voice from behind Hermione, the smell of Chinese food filled the air.

“Just try Hermione. Your mother loves you,” whispered Rodger.

“Hi mum,” Hermione smiled.

“Hermione,” her smile was a bit strained, but her voice was warm, and she held on to her daughter tight. Another pair of arms came around and pushed the two even closer together.

“My girls,” whispered Rodger. Hermione blinked rapidly, knowing that if she let the tears fall, it would be hard to stop.

Later, they were sitting in the dining room, several boxes of food spread over the tabletop, using the wooden chopsticks provided, and eating straight from the boxes (This way, we don’t have any dishes, my dears! Just three mugs for tea at the end of the night!). It was quiet, much quieter than the Great Hall or the Burrow at dinner. The gentle clang of their chopsticks against the food containers, her dad’s soft breathing, the hum of the refrigerator.

Home.

“How are classes going, love?”

Surprised, Hermione looked up at her mom, who was picking at a container of rice, looking down.

“They’re good,” Hermione said, “I thought this year would be easier, as we don’t have our O.W.L.s but it’s just as busy. The professors are giving away homework like it’s candy.”

Rose hummed, “What is your favorite subject this term?”

“Oh. Um,” she looked at her dad, who nodded encouragingly, “I do enjoy transfiguration. It’s what it sounds, transforming an object’s form or appearance, by alternating the object’s molecular structure. It’s the most difficult class, in my opinion. But Ancient Runes is always fun too. Being able to read and translate Runes is a very useful skill. Ron’s brother, Bill, he uses it often in his work. He’s a curse breaker for Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank.”

“Interesting. And how is Ron doing? And Harry? And, Theo, that is his name correct?” asked Roger.

“Yeah, they’re all doing good. Theo’s been having a bit of a rough go, but I think he’s better now. We’ve been studying together a lot in the library. Harry’s… Harry. He’s good. He’s in love with Ginny Weasley, but I don’t think he knows it quite yet.”

“Oh, that’s an interesting development,” Rose said, her eyes sparkling.

Hermione stuffed a piece of broccoli in her mouth, and mumbled, “Ron’s good. He has a girlfriend.”

Silence. They both looked up at her, shocked, Rose’s chopstick suspended midair.

“Oh. And who might that be?” asked Rodger carefully.

Hermione swallowed then shoved more food in her mouth, “Her name is Lavender,” she said speaking around her food, “She’s one of my dormmates.”

“Okay,” Rose said slowly, “And… how do you feel about this?”

 _Angry. Sad. Disappointed. In Ron, but mostly in myself. Slightly sick to my stomach that I let a guy snog me, just to make Ron jealous. Heartbroken. Like I would like very much to punch him in the face._  
“I’m fine with it,” Hermione lied.

An awkward silence. 

“So, Hermione,” Rodger put down his chopsticks, “I was thinking that maybe I could teach you to drive this summer. I know it’s a bit expensive for the actual license, but I do think that it would be a useful skill for you to have. Even if magic people have a way of popping from place to place.

Hermione grinned, laughing quietly at the look on her father’s face when she described Apparation.

* * *

 

“Jesus Christ, that was painful.”

They were driving back home from Hermione’s grandparents, her mum’s parents, and Hermione was slouching in her seat, wanting to just be home already.

“Oh, I don’t know dear,” Rodger said, his dark skin had a greyish tinge, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Rodger! Where you at the same dinner?” said Rose sharply.

 “Well, yes. But- I do think you are making a bigger deal of this than necessary-”

Hermione winced.

“My parents! My own parents! I don’t know how this bullshit started, Rodger but-”

Hermione groaned quietly and hid her face in her hands.

Dinners with the Harris’ were always… full of good food and passive aggressiveness.

The evening started pleasant enough, with hugs all around, the smell of a roast in the oven, the Christmas tree decorated to the nines and lit spectacularly in the corner. With Grandma Harris, everything had to be perfectly placed and everything had a schedule that needed to be adhered to. Hermione hated how much of herself she saw in Grandma Harris.

“Oh, Hermione how you’ve grown! Such a lovely young lady. We did miss you this summer. Where did you say she was, Rose?” She looked over Hermione shoulder at her daughter, her tone accusatory.

“A friend’s house. He was having a bit of a rough time and needed a friend.”  

Grandma Harris huffed, “Him? You never said it was a boy.”

And that brief exchange set the tone for the evening.

Every compliment was met with a snarky comment. Every encouragement from Rodger, trying to discreetly calm his wife, was contradicted. All in all, a lovely way to spend Christmas Eve.

When the topic of Hermione’s A-Levels was brought up, every Granger in the house froze, horrified that in the rush to get here, they forgot to come up with a backup plan. 

“Yes, they’re going well. Aren’t they Hermione?” Rose raised an eyebrow.

Hermione stomach twisted into knots, “Yes. They are. My school really is wonderful.”

“Out in Scotland?”

Rose took a large gulp of wine.

“Yes, my school… it’s- a special school. For… gifted students.”  
“Yes, yes, you said,” Grandma Harris waved her hand, “I think I would like to come visit this school you’re at. Dave and I were thinking of going on a holiday this spring.”

Rose drained her glass.

Back in the car, Hermione was sinking lower and lower into her seat, the seatbelt cutting into her chin.

“The audacity! Lecturing me about sending my child to boarding school, and then not going to go visit her. I can’t visit her! Do you think I like going months and months without seeing my own daughter?”

“I know, dear,” whispered Rodger, trying to catch Hermione’s eye in the review mirror.

“I’m not a bad mother, Rodger. I would visit her if I had the chance, and-” she paused, and turned around to look at Hermione, as if suddenly remembering that she was in the back seat.   
“I would come visit you. If I could. I truly would. I think it’s wonderful you live in a castle.”

Hermione gave her a small smile, “I know you would mum. Maybe you will someday.”

Rose smiled, “Tell me about Hogwarts, Hermione. Tell me about your castle.

Hermione grinned, “There’s moving staircases. And secret passageways, Harry knows all of them, he could show you. And the kitchens, there’s a huge portrait of a bowl of fruit, you have to tickle the pear and it will let you right in. The portraits, they talk, they move, it’s all very beautiful.”

As they sped through the night, leaving that awful dinner in the road behind them, Hermione told her parents about her home away from home. About the knights in armor guarding the halls, the huge library with books piled to the ceiling, dank dungeons that scared her as a first year, ghosts that haunt girls restrooms, the open Great Hall, long narrow passageways hidden behind tapestries that could either cut your journey in half or make you extremely late for your next class.

She told them nothing of the monster she had encountered just outside the library or the deep chamber where it resided for hundreds of years. She told them nothing of the troll she had encountered in a restroom. She told them nothing of the Forbidden Forest, where she had led a teacher to a hidden giant, in hopes that she and her friends could escape to London, to save a convicted felon. She just spoke of the mystical, slightly temperamental castle that stole her heart when she was eleven years old.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, dear Miss Granger. Welcome back to Hogwarts. How was your Christmas?”

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She had arrived at the castle after a lovely tea with Hagrid. Ever since dropping his class, she had felt guilty about not spending as much time with him, plus she just missed the friendly half-giant and his enormous cups of tea. Now Professor Dumbledore was blocking the staircase towards the Gryffindor tower.

“It was lovely, Professor Dumbledore. How was yours?”

The Professor smiled at her, “Lovely as well, thank you.” But he didn’t look like he had a lovely Christmas. His pale skin had a greyish tinge, his blue eyes looked tired, his blackened fingers poked through the end of his sleeve.

“Lovely,” Hermione said stiffly, wanting to be annoyed and frustrated, but she hadn’t had the time to dwell upon that strange conversation with Collin, so she wasn’t sure what to feel just yet.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor and give this to Harry?” he held out a rolled parchment with his good hand.   
Hermione took it hastily, “Of course, sir.”

“Excellent. Excellent.” Hermione looked up at him, he was staring at the wall behind her, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Tell me Miss Granger, is Harry sharing his lessons with you and the young Mr. Weasley?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And is there anything on your mind? You seem as if you are far away from here.”

“Well, yes-”

“Excellent, let us walk towards my office, I fear I am dangerously close to being late to a meeting.”

They walked along the corridor. The Professor was lightly humming with each step.

“Sir, I was wondering why-” the words were bursting out of her mouth, she didn’t have the self-control to hold back and she was so curious, so curious as to why her parents hadn’t pulled her out of Hogwarts at age 12, “Why didn’t you send a letter to my parents?”

Dumbledore chuckled, “When my dear?”

“When I was petrified. I was talking with Collin Creevy and he said that his parents were sent a letter. He had to fight to come back to school.”   
Professor Dumbledore hummed and stroked his long beard, “I was beginning to wonder when you were going to ask me this.”

_Seriously?_

“Would you rather I send a letter to your parents? I know it is a few years late, but I can write up an explanation-”

“No, no,” protested Hermione, “I just need to know why. Please. Sir.”

He hummed again and sat on a bench lining the hallway and patted the seat next to him, “Please sit, Miss Granger.”

After she settled in next to him, he sighed, “There are important things that must be done, Miss Granger. And some of us do not have a choice whether or not to fulfill them.”

Hermione’s heart dropped.

“And Harry is one of those people. He needs as many people surrounding him as possible. Are you understanding what I’m trying to tell you?”   
Hermione thought of the conversation she had with Harry and Ron, sitting in a dark hallway at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Ron’s voices growing continually louder, arguing about how long Harry would have survived if it hadn’t been for Hermione.

“I understand, sir.”

“Excellent, Miss Granger, excellent. It all comes down to Harry, whether he likes it or not.”

They sat in communal silence for a while, Hermione was thinking about Harry, his dark curly hair that never lied flat, his bright green eyes, his intelligence, his cluelessness, and his huge heart. It made her want to cry.   
“There may be a time when it will not be safe for your parents,” Professor Dumbledore said, his voice soft but firm, “I think it would be in your best interest to find… an alternative situation for them.”

Her parents. In danger just because she had the audacity to exist. She was finding it harder and harder to breath.

“I understand, sir.”

“Excellent,” he clapped his hands together, “Please do not hesitate to come to me with any questions you may have. And you’ll make sure the parchment gets to Mr. Potter? Wonderful, now run along Hermione, I’m sure your friends are looking forward to see you again.”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

Hermione sighed. Harry was back, and he wanted to dissect the conversation they had overheard.

“Of course, I think it’s strange Harry, but its-”

“What? You’re always wanting to go after the answer, you cannot stand not knowing something, even to the point where it’s a bit annoying-”

“Thank you.”

“Even with the Half-Blood Prince, you’re so set on knowing who he is-”

“Or she,” Hermione mumbled.

“But Draco Malfoy. The Draco Malfoy said that he had a mission from his master with your own ears, and you just want to let it drop? Why?”

 _Because he sometimes gets piss drunk and he talks to me about house elves and he thinks that I’m going to be Minister of Magic. He is kind to me._  

Hermione lightly shook her head, “You told Ron’s dad? And Professor Lupin?”

“Yeah, they didn’t deny anything about Malfoy and then just the same old bullshit about Snape,” Harry rolled his eyes and continued in a deep voice, “ _Dumbledore trusts Snape and that should be enough for us_.” He rolled his eyes again, looking very much like a child who had been told off at the dinner table. Hermione gently smiled at him.

_It all comes down to Harry, whether he likes it or not._

“I won’t deny it’s… there is something off with him. I’ve-” she debated for a moment to tell Harry of her and Malfoy’s meetings while the rest of the castle was asleep, but it was too personal. A secret that she wanted to keep to herself.

“He’s just been different this year,” she finished.

Harry huffed, “Yes, I’ve been telling you. A Death Eater. He said that his dad offered him like a lamb to the slaughterhouse. His dad made him become a Death Eater!”

Of course, it all made sense, but that didn’t stop Hermione from contradicting Harry, “His father is in a cell in Azkaban. How could he have done that?”

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it was a punishment for his mother? Or a punishment for his father,” Harry’s voice raised excitedly while Hermione hushed him, “Yeah, it’s all a punishment for his father because he didn’t get the you-know-what from the you-know-where. It was destroyed.”

“Well I sure hope not, because that would mean that we indirectly forced Malfoy to join the Death Eaters,” spat Hermione, a knot forming in her stomach.

“Shit,” Harry whispered.

“Yeah.”

There was a pause between the two, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione was staring at Ron and Lavender intertwined in an armchair. She was delighted to see that Ron looked absolutely miserable.

“Is Professor Lupin doing alright?” she asked.

Harry smirked, “He’s not a professor anymore, you know that right?”

Hermione smacked his arm, “I know. I just don’t think I can call him anything but Professor Lupin, you know?”

Harry smiled, “Yeah, I know. It’s strange to think that in another life he would have always been Remus to me. Or Uncle Remus. Or just Moony.”

_Oh, Harry._

He was staring across the room, his eyes glazed over. “I’ll have to ask him that the next time I see him. What I called him and- the rest of them when I was a kid. Cause I was a little over a year old, so I would have been talking,” he turned back towards Hermione, “Right?”

She nodded, “A bit.”

  
_It all comes down to Harry, whether he likes it or not._

 


	21. Firewhisky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.  
> Happy Reading!

“Hermione!”

A tall dark figure crashed into her, almost knocking her off of her feet. Harry, who was walking beside her, snickered and continued into the Great Hall.  

“Oh, my love. How I missed you,” Theo’s deep voice was soothing, calming. A welcome sound after weeks apart.

He held her arm’s length away and observed her with a bright smile. Christmas with the Weasley’s had done him well. He wasn’t as pale, the grey circles under his eyes gone, his long hair had been cut short on the sides, floppy on top. The same as Ron’s, it seemed Mrs. Weasley had mastered one style.

She smiled at him, “And I missed you. Happy New Year. You look great.”

He reached up and tentatively touched the shaved sides of his head, “Mrs. Weasley cut it for me. It was getting a bit long. I borrowed one of Ginny’s elastic bands to hold it back and she just about had a fit. Practically pushed me down on a kitchen chair and cut it right then and there. _Ronald_ found it all very amusing.”

Hermione giggled and ruffled his hair, “It’s the same as his.”

Theo shuddered, “Don’t remind me.”

Hermione laughed, eternally grateful for the boy standing opposite her.

“We still hate him, right?”  
Hermione shrugged, “A bit, I think.”

He nodded, “Noted.”

She ruffled his hair again and smiled at him fondly.

“Slag.”  
Pansy Parkinson walked by with Daphne Greengrass, arms linked, smirks on both their faces.

“Jealous Parkinson?” Theo said to the girls’ backs in a carrying voice, “I don’t think she swings that way. Sorry love.”    
Parkinson, walking into the Great Hall, lifted two fingers over her shoulder.

“Really Theo?” sighed Hermione, very aware of the other’s students stares, “There are going to be twenty new rumors by tomorrow morning.”

“Let them talk. I just really can’t fucking stand her,” he muttered, staring at open door to the Great Hall.  

Hermione bit her lip and looked over at the crowded tables, “Want to join me in the kitchens?”

Theo looked at her, relieved. She sometimes forgot he was a Slytherin, with very little Gryffindor tendencies. Harry would have walked into the Dining Hall, head held high, seated himself opposite the Slytherin table, and glared while he ate two plates of food. 

Hermione grabbed Theo’s arm, “Come on, I want to hear all about your Weasley Christmas.”

Theo placed a hand on his chest and closed his eyes, “Hermione, it was a wonderful Christmas. Mrs. Weasley is possibly my most favorite person. Besides you, of course.”  
Hermione smiled, “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Thursday night. It was Thursday night and she was preparing for her patrols.

_God. Preparing? Get a grip Granger._

She had put on a large fuzzy jacket earlier to fight against the cold, consciously deciding that comfort would always trump fashion, but now she had a strong urge to put on something a bit more flattering. She glanced in the mirror. Thankfully, after a few weeks of regular sleep, the dark circles under her eyes had faded, her cheeks pleasantly flushed from the cold. After a day full of lessons, her hair was three times the normal size, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Just as she was about to pull off her jacket, she paused and realized in horror what she was doing.

 _Oh, no. Not today. Not ever. You are warm and comfortable, and you will patrol the halls in what you are wearing now. If you happen to run into a certain student, so be it. You do not care what he thinks of you._  

With a satisfied nod, she flew down the stairs, not even bothering to stop for Ron, who was receiving a very passionate goodbye from his girlfriend.

After exiting through the portrait hole, she heard, “Oi! Wait up!”

She spun around and snapped, “What?”

Ron looked at her sheepishly, his lips red and swollen, “I was thinking we could patrol together tonight.”

She looked at him disbelievingly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said with a faint smile on his lips, a smile that used to make her knees weak, a smile that could have convinced her of anything, “I want to hear about your Christmas. We- I missed you.”

_I missed you._

_I missed you._

_I missed you._

Taking a deep breath through her nose, then breaking out noisily, she said in one breath, “I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

He looked disappointed, “Oh. Okay. That’s fine, I guess.”  
“Yeah, it is fine. I’ll start on the top floor and you the bottom? We’ll each cover five?” she said briskly.

“Yeah. That’s fine,” he said sharply, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Fine,” Hermione snapped.

“Fine,” he turned away and started making his way down the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty stairwell.

She stood there for a moment, fists clenched. Then she groaned loudly and smacked her foot on the floor. The childish gesture made her feel better.

“Was that really necessary?” A portrait of an old woman in a flowing gown looked down at her, her long nose lifted in the air.

Hermione bowed her head in the woman’s direction, dramatically and sarcastically, with a petty smile on her face. The old witch huffed in return.

Her journey along the corridors was quiet, no students were out of bounds, all of them enjoying the warmth of their common room and the company of their friends they had missed over Christmas.

Hermione was walking fast, faster than what was necessary, her arms swinging aggressively side to side. _Why does he think he can be angry with me? I didn’t do anything to him. He started it all. He doesn’t get to be angry with me. Who does he think he is? After all of this. I miss you? Please. What a complete-_

A loud crash interrupted her thoughts, then a soft burst of laughter.

She sighed and braced herself as she rounded the corner.

“Granger! Glad to see that you haven’t forgotten about me!”

Hermione scowled, “I’m patrolling, Malfoy.”

He was sitting on the ground, legs splayed out, his back against the wall and an almost empty bottle of Firewhisky between his legs with a stupid grin on his face.

“Nonsense!” he waved his hand dismissively, “You enjoy our times together.”

She crossed her arms and cocked her head, “I’m patrolling. I simply found you out of bounds.”

He looked up at her a smirked, “You like me. You enjoy my company.”

“Don’t be stupid, Malfoy. I barely tolerate you.”

His smirk grew into a wide smile. He lifted a finger and said, “Yes, but you tolerate me.”

She let out a gasping laugh, “Emphasis on the barely.”

He picked up the bottle and shrugged, “I’ll take it,” he took a long drink, barely wincing.

_Like a lamb at a slaughterhouse._

“Are you just going to stand there or are you planning on joining me?”

_I don’t really expect to survive anyway._

Ron wouldn’t be patrolling this floor. There was nothing holding her back besides her moral obligations to her Prefect duties.

_Like a lamb at a slaughterhouse._

_Fuck it._

She plopped down next to Malfoy and crossed her legs, the floor cold and uncomfortable.  She grabbed the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing the back of his cold hands, and took a swig. She winced as it went down her throat, the burning sensation fading into a pleasant warmth that settled in her stomach.

“Merlin, Granger. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

She grunted in return, not trusting her burning throat to allow actual words to pass through, so she took another sip, the alcohol passing more smoothly this time.   

They sat in silence, Hermione’s knee almost brushing Malfoy’s leg. The sound of his breathing rang in her ears.

“This isn’t healthy,” her voice sounded pretentious and bossy in her own ears. She was surprised when Malfoy didn’t even comment on it.

“What? The drinking?” Malfoy reached over and grabbed the bottle from her hands.

“Yes.”

He shrugged, his shoulder bumping into hers.

“You have to pissed to talk to me.”

He lifted the bottle to his lips and whispered, “I believe so.”

“Interesting.”

He snorted, “Interesting how?”

She laughed bitterly, “Oh, so many reasons.”

He pulled his legs towards his chest, the neck of the bottle dangling between his fingers, “Oh?”

“It’s interesting how carelessly you’ve called me a Mudblood in the past and now, you have to have half a bottle of Firewhisky in your system in order to have a civil conversation with me.”

She felt him shift uncomfortably next to her.

“I just think it’s interesting,” she finished coolly, her lips pursed.

“Merlin, you look so snooty like that.”

She gave him a wry smile, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirked, lifting the bottle to his lips again.

“Give me that,” she snapped, grabbing the Firewhisky from his hands. She placed it on her opposite side, slamming the glass onto the stone floor.

“Excuse me! Give that back!”

“No. You’re just going to make yourself sick. Or an alcoholic.”

“Oh,” he sneered, “Since when do you care?”

 _Why do I care?_  

“Just shut up, Malfoy.”

He laughed, not the pleasant one she had grown fond of, but the mean, snarky laugh that she had heard so many times, “Excellent retort! And I thought you were intelligent.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

They sat in silence, Hermione’s hand still wrapped around the neck of Malfoy’s Firewhisky, Malfoy’s arms were wrapped around his drawn knees. His legs looked comically long.

“How was your Christmas?”  
“Oh, piss off.”

He held up his hands, “Am I not allowed to ask that?”

“No. You’re not,” snapped Hermione.

“Fine.”

She groaned loudly, making him jump.

“Why are you like this?”

He looked flabbergasted, “Like what?”

“This!” she gestured to him.

“You’re making no sense.”

She huffed, then turned to the bottle of Firewhisky, taking a large mouthful.

He lightly laughed, “You’re being an awful hypocrite, Hermione Granger.”

“Piss. Off.”

He laughed again, this time the pleasant laugh that caused a flutter to erupt in her stomach. His eyes were glittering with amusement. She didn’t like it.

“Why are you doing this?” she snapped. She could feel her frustrations grow. Her knee was bouncing up and down rapidly.

“Good Merlin, calm down,” he said, placing a burning hand on her knee. She withdrew her leg quickly, not wanting him to touch her, still hating the feeling that was growing in her gut.

“No. Shut up. I’m serious. Don’t you know you’re hurting people? You’re hurting innocent people.”

The smile fell from his face. His already pale skin grew grey in the torchlight.

_I have a plan. It’s my job. My fucking job._

Hermione knew she was being irrational, reckless. He didn’t know that she and Harry had heard that conversation between him and Snape. He didn’t know what Harry suspected- what they both suspected of Malfoy. She wasn’t sure of his hand in Katie Bell’s accident, but she was letting her emotions get away from her. Her anger at Ron, her confusion with Malfoy was rising up in her, twisting her tongue, forcing the words out of her mouth. This was easier than having to deal with the anxiety that was threatening to overtake her, easier than dealing with his hand on her knee and their fingertips brushing over a half empty bottle of alcohol.

“It’s not all about you. It’s not just about your family. There are more important things out there.”

They were facing each other now. Malfoy’s grey eyes were glaring into her brown ones.

“Granger, you need to stop-”

“No!” yelled Hermione, her voice high, “Don’t tell me what to do! You’re the one who’s making the mistake right now. You’re the one who’s going to get killed because you’re following blindly. You’re being so incredibly selfish. Just think-”

“Don’t.”

“I know you don’t want it. I know it. You’re sitting with a Mudblood right now-”

“Don’t say-”

“Mudblood. I’m a Mudblood. And you’re still sitting here. Voldemort-”

“Don’t fucking say his name!” Malfoy yelled; his voice tight with anger, cheeks flushed a deep red.

 His loud voice broke Hermione from her rant. She felt her cheeks grow warm, whether from anger or the alcohol, she wasn’t sure. She continued with vigor, “I know about Katie, it had to be you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were, but you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His lips were curled, anger flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t look away. They held eye contact for a few moments until Hermione started feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. She looked away and stared at the wall in front of them.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” his voice was so soft that Hermione had to lean closer in order to make out his words. He reeked of cinnamon and alcohol. But he also smelt of clean soap and a chemical sort of scent. Broom polish?

_Oh, good lord, broom polish._

“You’re speaking of things you are clueless of.”

Hermione snorted. She was definitely having an internal panic attack; she could feel her face heating up.

 _Broom polish. Oh no. Why does he smell like broom polish?_  

“What the hell Granger?” he looked at her in contempt, “Why is it that you always laugh when I’m trying to be sincere?”

“I’m sorry-” she snorted again, then burst into uncontrollable giggles.

_Broom polish. Everyone uses broom polish. Everyone but Ron uses broom polish. It doesn’t mean anything._

“What is wrong with you?” Malfoy said under his breath. He grabbed the bottle from her hand and held it to his lips, a smile curling up on the edges.  

For some reason, this made her laugh even harder. Holding her stomach, she gasped, “I’m sorry. It’s just- You smell like broom polish.”

“Excuse me?”

“Broom polish!” she snorted, laughing loudly, a loud hysterical laugh that was extremely annoying in her ears.

He laughed, “Why is this funny?”

“Because of-” she slapped her hand over her mouth, mortified that she almost let the Firewhisky talk for her.

He raised an eyebrow, “You’re amusing.”

She snorted, “Sure. I’m a mess, is what I am.”

He shrugged, “Aren’t we all though? Now that you’ve removed that stick from your arse-”

“Oh, hark whose talking!”

“Tell me what Potter has done to make you so angry.”

She drew her eyebrows together, “What?”

He grinned, “In Potions. You’re pissed at him. What has he done?”

Hermione inwardly cursed her Gryffindor loyalty and shook her head, “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” and quickly changed the subject.

They sat in the dimly lit hallway, talking of classes, homework, his friends that she hated and her friends that he hated. They spoke of books and papers and their favorite quills and tea and biscuits until Hermione couldn’t keep her eyes open and Malfoy had almost finished off the Firewhisky. She hadn’t trusted herself to take another sip, while his voice grew steadily uneven and slurred. They actively avoided talking of anything of true importance, Hermione censored their conversations like she did with her parents. It was refreshing yet nerve wracking at the same time.  

While walking back to the Gryffindor Common Room, a bit unsteady on her feet, she thought over and over to herself, _It’s just broom polish. It doesn’t mean anything. Sure, he’s slightly attractive, if you like a pale ghost of a person, but it’s just broom polish. It doesn’t mean anything. Everyone uses broom polish. He’s a bully, a prat and has most likely joined a cause that wants nothing more than the death of myself and my family. You do not fancy Draco Malfoy, not even the slightest._  

The very idea of it made her laugh, fancying Malfoy. It made her laugh long and hard, something that she wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if she hadn’t had Firewhisky coursing through her body. As she neared the Fat Lady’s portrait, the painting of the old woman in the flowing gown frowned at her with disapproval, which made her laugh all the harder.

 

* * *

 

“He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore couldn’t get it out of him,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “Horcruxes… Horcruxes… I’ve never even heard of them…”

Harry and Hermione were huddled in a corner of the snowy courtyard during break. Harry was stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together. She rolled her eyes and cast a warming charm over the both of them.

He nodded in thanks, “You haven’t?” the disappointment leaking into his voice.

“They must be really advanced Dark magic, or why would Voldemort have wanted to know about them? I think it’s going to be difficult to get that information, Harry, you’ll have to be very careful about how you approach Slughorn, think out a strategy…” mused Hermione, already thinking of three separate plans to lure the Potions professor.

“Ron reckons I should just hand back after Potions this afternoon…”

Hermione had to actually bit her tongue to stop the scathing remark.

“Yes. List to Won-Won. Because he spends all his free time with Slytherins. I forgot that Won-Won’s best friend is a Slytherin. It must have slipped my mind.”

Harry groaned, “Do you have to call him that- Wait. Best friend?”

“And furthermore, you also have a friend whose father was extremely invested into the Dark Arts, so he might be able to give you a clue as to what you’re searching for.”

Harry looked at her blankly, “…Malfoy…?”

She smacked him on the back of his head, his beanie blocking the force of her blow, “Theo, you dolt.”

Harry smirked and rubbed his head.  

He cleared his throat, “I know things aren’t the greatest between you two right now, but might you find some sympathy and possibly-”

“Don’t make me hit you again.”

“Hermione. He really is sorry.”

“And I don’t care if he really is sorry. He’s going to have to say and do a whole lot more than just say _I miss you_.”

Harry smiled, “He said he missed you?”

Hermione glared, “Oh, shut up Harry.” She turned her back to her smirking friend and left him behind in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, everyone's comments and kudos are so wonderful and kind. Thanks so much for reading and enjoying my weird ramblings. Seriously, you all are the best.


	22. In Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 Kudos people! You all are the best.   
> And now for a stupid long chapter.   
> Happy Reading!

  _Stupid bezoar. Stupid Prince. What kind of name is Half-Blood Prince? He sounds like a pretentious arsehole. He probably was a pretentious arsehole, thinking he knows better than the book._

A little voice at the back of her head whispered, _Well, Harry has been getting better grades than you this term._  

“Shut up,” she whispered to herself, “Shut up. Shut up.”

“Talking to yourself again Granger?” Theo appeared on her side, jogging to keep up with her fast stride, “You left Potions in a hurry, anything to do with Potter showing up the whole class by being a smartarse?”

“No,” growled Hermione.

Theo raised his eyebrows, “It’s alright, you’re still the best in the class.”

“But I’m not!” cried Hermione, stopping in her tracks. She had been headed to the library, and as it was dinner, the hallways were void of students.

“He’s gotten better grades on the papers than me, though I have no idea how. He’s definitely doing better in class, all of my potions have been absolutely awful, they never turn out right, even though I precisely follow the directions,” her eyes started to fill with tears, “Harry’s already better than in everything else-”

“Whoa, whoa. He’s not. I mean, I like the bloke, but he’s not-”

“But he is! He might not get better grades than me, but he’s got... He’s got what it takes, you know? He’s not great at homework or classwork, but he’s a strong wizard who can take out just about anyone in a duel. But me? I freeze in tense situations. I can never think of the right charm or hex. But I thrive in the classroom, I know books. I know set instructions. I follow the rules. And Potions was my thing, it’s essentially just following instructions and knowing the components of the ingredients and I know I sound like a brat, but if I can’t beat Harry at potions, what good am I to him? What good am I?”

Hermione had tears flowing down her cheeks. Theo was looking at her, concerned. She knew she was overacting and being dramatic, she was due to start her period the next day, but she couldn’t exactly tell Theo that.

“I think you’re overthinking this, love,” Theo said tentatively.

“I know I am!” cried Hermione.

“Okay, then. Just… stop.”

“It’s not that easy!”

Theo swallowed, “If you could just stop crying, I could help. I’m honestly not that good with tears, Hermione. I’m telling you this right now, because this is probably something that is going to come up again. My father hated crying, he hated it. I honest to Merlin wasn’t allowed to shed tears when I was a child. So, I don’t really do it now-”

“Unless you’re reading Pride and Prejudice,” Hermione smiled softly, wiping at her cheeks.

Theo giggled, “Yes. And when I read it for the fourth time, I shall cry again!” He raised his hand triumphantly.

Hermione laughed into her hands, still trying to remove the tears and snot from her face.

“You’re good, you know? Potter’s not going to dump you because he beat you at Potions. Honestly, he’s probably going to be relieved for next year when you’re top of the class again and you can stop acting like a mad person.”

Hermione snorted, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop acting like a mad person. I’ll just find something else to be mad over.”

Theo laughed, his loud booming laugh that echoed in the hallway. Oh, how Hermione loved that laugh, “I love your madness, Hermione. Never change,” he threw an arm over her shoulder and turned them around, “You don’t need to go to the library, you need to eat something.” 

“But-”

“Proving to Potter to that you’re an amazing potioneer can wait until after dinner.”

 

* * *

 

_Horcrux. Horcrux. Horcrux._

The letters were starting to blur together. The library had failed her for the tenth time that week. She was looking through the same pages, the same books for that cursed word.

_Horcrux. Horcrux. Horcrux._

Just the same passage, _Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction._

“Why even fucking mention it,” muttered Hermione, deeply annoyed that she had to read through _Magick Moste Evile_ TWICE, looking again for another other mention of Horcrux.

“There you are, I was looking for you.”   
Hermione snapped the book shut and looked up abruptly.

“Well, that wasn’t suspicious. What are you reading?”

“Nothing,” Hermione leaned forward, placing her arms over the title of the book.

“Hmm,” Theo raised an eyebrow, “Well, I was looking for you. I had a quick question about our Charms essay.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be there in a minute,” Hermione smiled sweetly.

Theo’s eyebrow rose higher, “Okay…” he turned his back to her and headed outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts section. Hermione sighed and placed the ancient book back on the shelf, feeling like she would never like to pick up that book again.

She walked slowly back to their table, frustrated that she hadn’t been able to think of anything to help Harry, maybe she could ask Theo? His father was definitely invested in the Dark Arts, it’s possible that he could know something, but Harry would be against adding Theo to their group, as much as the Gryffindor trio liked him, they all knew that this was only for the three of them.

Hermione stopped in her tracks; Theo was sitting in her chair. Though Hermione loved Theo enough to share her table with him, she still had her own chair, and everyone once in a while, he arrived before she did, and had taken up residence in her chair. For months, she had been thinking of a way to tell him that the chair with its front to the window was _her chair_. It was her chair because the light hit it starting in the afternoon, the view absolutely beautiful and the trees of the Forbidden Forest and the Great Lake shimmering in the setting sun made her heart happy and when her heart was happy it was easier to write. But she had let the matter sit for too long, and now she couldn’t bring it up without sounding absolutely mad.

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“You needed help?”

After their Charms essays were long since finished and the library was slowing emptying for the night, Hermione remembered that she had patrols in just a few hours. Her stomach twisted into knots.

“If I tell you something in confidence, would you promise to never bring it up again?”   
“Sure. Where’s the body?”

“Oh, ha ha. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I would help you hide the body. I hope you know that. It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Thank you? I’m not planning on killing anyone. It’s important to me that you know that.”

Theo hummed in reply. Hermione folded her hands in her lap, her anxiety growing, whether from what she was about to tell Theo or the idea of seeing another certain Slytherin that night, she wasn’t sure.

Theo raised his eyes from his book, staring at her under his dark eyebrows, “You know that you can tell me anything.”

“I know. It’s just- I don’t want you to bring it up again, at any point, for the rest of our lives.”

“Okay…”

“In fact, I don’t want you to even comment on it. I want to tell you, then I want us to go back to our studying, like nothing is amiss and not one word from you.”

“Hermione,” he leaned forward over his open book and whispered, “Did you actually kill someone?”

“No!” exclaimed Hermione.

A Ravenclaw over at the next table shushed them.   
“Come on,” she grabbed his arm and led him to the empty Transfiguration section.   
“ _Muffilato_ ,” she whispered, hating herself just a bit.

“What did that do?” Theo asked softly.

“If anyone is around all they would hear is a buzzing sound, so we won’t be overheard.”

“Nifty,” Theo looked delighted, “Is that one of the Prince’s-”

“God, yes. Don’t tell Harry.”   
Theo giggled, “So what’s so important?”

“Promise? Between us, right now, and then never brought up again?”   
“Promise. Now what is it?”

“Since the beginning of the year, while I’ve been patrolling at nights, I have been seeing Draco Malfoy drunk in the hallways. At first, I took points off and led him to his common room, but lately we’ve been talking and he’s an arse but he’s kind and he smells like broom polish, and I _could_ go into that but I honestly haven’t even allowed myself to think about it because I think if I did, I would have a honest to God mental breakdown. If I thought, at any sort of level, that I fancied Draco Malfoy…” she shuddered, “It’s just all very confusing and I don’t know what to think and there’s not exactly a book out there about enemies or a hated foe turned to…. Friendship? I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend, possibly an acquaintance… No. A person I _might_ enjoy spending time with and talking to? But see, that sounds like a friend, but we are _definitely_ not friends.”

She had never seen Theo look so confused, “What the fuck?”

“No. You’re not allowed to say anything because your opinion will affect me. This is a blind case study and I just needed to speak aloud to someone in order to process my feelings… or my findings.”

“But- We were just studying-” he pointed towards their table, “And now you’re talking about fancying-”

“Not a word Theodore Nott.”

“But-”

“Not a word. You promised. And besides, it’s your fault. He approached me last year after Christmas, after our fight and he found you crying over _Pride and Prejudice_. I think he was genuinely concerned for your mental wellbeing and basically ordered me to forgive you.”

“He did?”

“Stop talking. Then this year, it’s been different. He’s quite a pleasant drunk. Very talkative, he laughs a lot. We mostly talk about school. Despite him being a complete wanker, he’s an excellent student. And while I do think Harry might be on to something with his ‘Malfoy is a malicious Death Eater Theory,’ I mostly think Malfoy is just confused or possibly being coerced to do something, but it’s not really him. It’s-”

Theo held up his hand, “I know… this is a case study or whatever, but this is fucking crazy Hermione!”

“You said you wouldn’t-”

“That was before you so casually mentioned that you were meeting with a possible Death Eater three times a week.”

“Well… when you say it like that-” muttered Hermione.  

“And it’s Malfoy! Out of all the people. The boy was awful to you.”   
“The key word being _was_. I believe that he’s changed!”

Theo raised an eyebrow, “Just because he drinks and is nice to you every once in a while?”

Hermione winced. Her argument sounded a lot more convincing in her head.

“How often is he getting pissed?”

She shrugged, “I’ve seen him about four or five times. But it seems like a pretty regular thing.”

Theo whispered, “I need to start paying more attention. I share a room with the bloke.”

“And I’ve been thinking, you’re a Slytherin. You’re not an evildoer who wants nothing more than pain and destruction.”

“How observant of you.”

“I’m serious. I didn’t grow up in the Wizarding World but you Slytherins have somewhat of a reputation.”

“I’m quite aware.”

“What I’m saying is, you’re not all bad, even with your all bad father. Lucius Malfoy is… a bad person, but does that mean that Malfoy has to be a bad person?”

“Yes,” gasped Theo, “Because he has continually shown to everyone in the school that he is a bad person.”

“Think back to this year though, he’s hasn’t done anything. He hasn’t called me a Mudblood once, he hasn’t provoked Harry or Ron or any other student. I really do think that he has changed!”

“He broke Potter’s nose in the beginning of the year!”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, not quite sure what she was going to say and was grateful when Theo spoke up, “This is- This is crazy Hermione. And you know it. But it’s more than that. You’re just curious.”

“What’s that got to do with-”

“You don’t understand him, and that makes him interesting to you. You can’t stand not knowing something, so he’s a puzzle to you, a game.”

“Theo-”

“No, Hermione. Stop being such a Gryffindor. This isn’t a game. If Malfoy actually is a Death Eater, you’re going to get yourself hurt.”

Hermione scoffed, but was starting to feel unsure of herself, “He’s not going to hurt me-”

“You don’t know what he’s going to do. He’s unpredictable right now. And going back to the fancying bit-”

“Hey. You’re not supposed to be talking.”

Theo had on a sly smile, “Broom polish? Is that some sort of code?” He made a rude gesture.

Hermione slapped his arm, “You’re disgusting.”

Theo laughed again, “What do you mean though?”

She was not about to him about the smell of Amortentia. This conversation was humiliating enough.

“I mean, he smells like broom polish.”   
“And why are you smelling him, Hermione Granger?”

“This conversation is done. Thank you for not helping me in the slightest.” She started heading to their table.

Theo grabbed her arm, stifling a grin, “Okay, okay. I’m done. But… you need to be careful. Think before you do. For once in your damn life.”

“I sometimes think that I think too much Theo. My head feels clogged from all the thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms, “And it’s not- It’s not like that. I think that he thinks too much as well, and he just wants someone to talk with.”

“Yeah, but you’re…”

“A Mudblood.”

Theo winced, “I was going to say Muggle-born.”

“And the fact that he is willing to sit down and talk with me, Hermione Granger a Muggle-born, that _has_ to mean something.”

Theo sighed, “You don’t know him, Hermione. I’ve- I’ve known him since I was a child. His family, well his father- he loves Draco, but he’s just as bigoted and evil as the rest of them.”

“Are you, out of all people, judging someone for their father’s actions?”

Theo stilled; his mouth slightly open. Hermione regretted the words as soon as they exited her mouth.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

“No. No. It’s true.”

He leaned against the opposite bookshelf as her and stared down at his feet. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, “My life was a lot less complicated before we became friends.”   
Hermione gave him a soft smile, “Regret it?”

He looked up, “Not for a second. Just- between you and your friends, you’re all going to send me to an early grave.”   
Hermione laughed, “I apologize. I’ll try and reign in my Gryffindorness.”

Theo scoffed, “Like you even can.”

“Who else is bothering you?”

“What?”

“You said ‘you and your friends?’” Theo cheeks started to flush, “Is Ron giving you a hard time, because I can talk to him-”

Theo laughed, “No. No. Just-” His cheeks were bright red now and he was avoiding her eyes.

“Theo?” His reaction was peculiar, and her curiosity was overwhelming, “Who else is bothering you?” 

Theo sighed and said in one breath, “I don’t want to talk about it at the moment, but I will eventually, okay?”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, then stopped at the look Theo was giving her.

“Okay,” she breathed out, everything within her was threatening to burst, but she did just promise to reign in her Gryffindorness. 

They stood in silence until the sun retreated from sight, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I think you mean Harry or Ron.”

Hermione smiled, thinking it was adorable how Theo went back and forth from Harry and Ron to Potter and Weasley.

“Sure. Just between the two of us.”

He sighed, “Just between the two of us.”

She stood straight and smiled at him, “I feel like we’ve entered a new phase of our friendship.”

Theo snorted, “Yes, because swapping secrets about who we fancy is definitely more intimate than running for our lives from my psycho father.”

Hermione winced. She still found it a bit difficult to talk to Theo about his father. No matter how much Theo protested, she still felt a strange guilt for being the one to immobilize his father. And that moment before, when he laughed madly and threated Theo with the Cruciatus Curse. When she grabbed his hand and held it tight, when the Gryffindors and Luna stood in front of him, ready to fight off anyone who dared to touch him. It was an oddly intimate moment and she still wasn’t quite comfortable with it.

_I should probably work on my emotional intimacy skills. Especially since I give Ronald a hard time._

She realized that she hadn’t answered him, lost in her own head, and looked up to see Theo smirking at her.

“I don’t fancy him, Theo. Wipe that look off your face.”

He scratched his chin, “It… it oddly makes sense.”

“No!” protested Hermione. Much to her horror, she felt her cheeks grow warm, “It doesn’t make sense. That’s not why I told you!”

Theo cocked his head, “Why did you tell me?”

“Well,” Hermione said slowly, starting at Theo’s trainers, “We’re friends. Friends tell each other things and-”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” he said, wagging his finger at her, “You’re not going to guilt trip me into saying anything, Hermione Granger. I’m more Slytherin than you’d ever hope to be.”

 

* * *

 

He was wine drunk that night. His lips were stained a light purple. Mixed with his light grey skin and dark circles under his eyes, he looked very zombie like.

When she told him this, he looked at her blankly, “What?”

“A zombie. Well, they are like Inferi, for lack of a better comparison. They’re in muggle films.”

“Ah. Never seen one.”

“There are old ones, in black and white. Those are my dad’s favorite. _Night of the Living Dead, White Zombie._ ”

Malfoy hummed then cleared his throat, “I’m losing my buzz.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, “Tragic.”

They sat in silence while Malfoy ran a finger along his lower lip.

“What’s _your_ dad’s favorite film?”

“What?”

“It’s a joke… cause your father is a… never mind.”

“Ah, yes. Let’s joke about the bigoted father you put in prison, shall we?”

“Okay,” Hermione stood up from their place against the wall, “I think I prefer you when you’re actually drunk.”

“No!” he lifted a hand in the air and tightened his fist.

“What?”

“I saw how it bothered you that you thought I could only speak to you while pissed, so I decided to take it easy tonight. No hard alcohol, just half a bottle of wine.”

“You’re destroying your liver,” muttered Hermione.

“And I would appreciate it if you worked with me. I’m not going to be a laughing drunk Draco, because I am barely buzzed right now.”

“Work with you?”

Malfoy sighed and leaned his head against the wall. When standing, he was over a head taller than her, the top of her busy hair would barely brush his chin. It was weird looking down at him, it made him seem smaller, more vulnerable.

“Just, sit down. I don’t like you looking over me like that,” he patted the stone floor next to him.

“I don’t want to,” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and blew a loose curl out of her eyes.

Malfoy huffed and smiled, a smile so small Hermione thought that perhaps she had imaged it.

“Just come here.”

“No! You don’t get to be rude to me and then expect me to follow your every order.”

“For Merlin’s sake,” he placed his hands on the ground and hoisted himself up in one fluid movement with a small grunt.

Hermione face felt warm, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, “You didn’t want to join me, so I was going to join you?”

“Well, I was going to go back to patrolling, I’ve been neglecting it lately, who knows what’s happening in the castle right now,” she said, walking away from him, speaking over her shoulder.  
“Exactly, there might be drunk Slytherins out of bed.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks to find Malfoy at her side.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m… You said you had patrols, I was going… join you?” he said, his tone uncertain. 

Hermione wasn’t quite sure what to think of a buzzed going on sober Malfoy. He was quieter, wasn’t as certain about himself, at least with her. He didn’t laugh or smile as much, making his company a bit less enjoyable.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to explain your presence if we meet anyone along the way.”

“Right. That’s right. I’ll just-” He stopped abruptly and turned to walk down the flight of stairs to their right, “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, I think.”

Just when she felt like she was making leeway with him, he had to go and cock it all up by trying to converse with her sober. The attempt was nice, but the awkward silences made her feel even worse. She stalled and groaned to herself. She stood there for a moment, tightening and loosening her fists by her side.

He was halfway down the stairs when Hermione yelled, “Hey!”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about the dad joke. It wasn’t funny. I don’t know what to do in tense situations.”

He smirked, “It was slightly funny.”

“Just slightly,” Hermione softly smiled in return. They stood there for a moment, Malfoy’s smirk slowly turning into a genuine smile, Hermione’s cheeks started aching, but she couldn’t find the will to stop her growing grin. Then Malfoy laughed, a sudden bark of laughter that made Hermione jump, which made him laugh more.

“I like your laugh,” Hermione said, then quickly grew horrified by what she had just said.

_What the bloody hell Hermione Granger? Are you a fucking psycho? You don’t just tell people like Malfoy that you like their-_

“I like your laugh too. The way you snort sometimes, I think it’s funny.”

Hermione’s cheeks had never felt this hot in her life, “Oh. Thank you.”

Malfoy nodded his head in return, his smile brighter than ever, “Good night, Granger,” he cocked his head and gave her a crooked smile that kept replaying in her mind for the rest of the night, “Till next time,” then he descended down the stairs, white blonde hair bouncing with every step.

Hermione didn’t even finish her patrols that night. She walked straight to the common room, ignored Harry calling her name and flopped herself face down on her bed, nearly knocking Crookshanks on the floor. He mewed in annoyance then sat on the small of her back and kneaded his claws through her sweater while Hermione tried to control her heart rate.

* * *

 

“He’s disappearing off the map!”

Dodging students in the hallway, Hermione sighed, “I highly doubt that Harry.”

“No, I’m serious. I overheard him arguing with Crabbe about them posting as a lookout.”

Hermione stopped and stared at Harry, “A lookout?”

Harry was growing excited, bouncing up and down, “Yeah, he said it’s taking longer than he thought and it was none of Crabbe and Goyle’s business, that they just need to do as their told and keep a lookout.”

Hermione stomach dropped, barely registering that Harry was still speaking, “I’ve been looking at the map constantly and it seems like he just disappears! Crabbe and Goyle are always here though, sometimes just posted outside an empty hall-”

“And when did you hear this?” Hermione asked casually.

“Saturday, and I’ve been looking at the map since then.”

“Interesting,” whispered Hermione.

“What’s interesting?” whispered Harry.

“I’m just-” she said in a normal tone, “It’s just interesting is all. Perhaps he is visiting his mother.”

“God, Hermione,” Harry rolled his eyes, “Please try and be more helpful.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do Harry!”

“He’s up to something! He’s hiding stuff from Crabbe and Goyle, he’s best friends with them!”

“Yeah…” Hermione said, lost in her own thoughts.

_There was no way Crabbe and Goyle were keeping a lookout for our nighttime rendezvous. It was impossible, the meetings had started by chance, that was it. It was all just chance. Stop overthinking everything Hermione._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, question time. Book seven is around the corner (I'm thinking three or four more chapters) and there's going to be lots of sections without some of our beloved characters, basically just Theo and Draco but more as well.   
> Sound I write small tidbits in their perspectives or just solely from Hermione. I'm leaning towards just Hermione with like one small section of Draco's, but I wanted to ask what you all think before doing anything definite. 
> 
> You all are great and amazing, thank you for reading. <3


	23. Coffee and Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything remotely related to HP, that all belongs to JK, as do some of the lines from this chapter.  
> Happy Reading!

_That stupid map, messing everything up. I wonder if I could burn it without him noticing. Oh, he might be a bit cross, wouldn’t he? It was his father’s after all. Perhaps I could just steal it. Yes, that might work quite-_

“Hermione!”

A flash of red hair and Ginny Weasley was sitting in the seat across from her.

“Where are your boys?”

Hermione shrugged and picked at her bacon. She was distracted, brooding about Harry’s new level of obsession with Malfoy. She hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to the Slytherin in weeks. It was making her impatient and cranky.

_I like your laugh too. The way you snort sometimes, I think it’s funny._

“It’s Ron’s birthday you know,” Ginny looked up at Hermione, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“I’m quite aware,” Hermione poured milk into her tea, refusing to make eye contact.

“What did you get him?” Ginny asked in a light voice.

“Piss off, Ginny.”

She laughed, drawing attention from half of the Gryffindor table, “Merlin, I can’t get over you two. When are you going to get your shit together?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Ginny.”

The tips of her ears grew red, giving Hermione a wonderful feeling of satisfaction.

“No, Hermione. No drawing attention away from yourself. I’m serious, you two are-”

“Nothing’s happening. I honestly don’t know if I want anything to happen at this point.”

“Oh, come off it.”

“I’m completely serious.”

“Really?” Ginny looked genuinely shocked.

“Why are you surprised?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows, “You’ve been trying to talk me out of this for years!”  
“Well yeah. My brother is a dick. Come to think of it, most of my brothers are dicks, but I never thought you would actually listen to me.”

Hermione shrugged.

“Wow. That’s an extremely interesting development.”

Hermione shrugged again.  
Ginny licked her lips and grinned, “Who is it?”

Hermione sighed, “I am not having this conversation with you right now, Ginny.”

“Oh, good Lord, there’s someone else. Oh… let me guess! Ummm… Seamus Finnegan.”

“God, no.”

“Ernie Macmillian.”

Hermione scoffed.

“Oh, finally come to your senses and declared your undying love for the one and only Cormac McLaggen?”

Hermione laughed, “Why are you picking the most immature boys at Hogwarts?”

Ginny smirked, “They’re all a bunch of immature boys,” she spread her arms, “Look at them.”

Seamus and Dean were throwing pieces of bacon at the Ravenclaw table, aiming for the brim of Padma Patil’s hat while Neville was trying his hardest not to laugh, his face bright red. Collin Creevey was sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Ernie Macmillan, pouring over a book, laughing, puffing out their cheeks and sticking out their tongues and then dissolving into more laughter. And the one and only Cormac McLaggen, who could not take a hint, was talking to an extremely uninterested Angelina Johnson.

“True,” Hermione said slowly.

“Oh, and your love life aside, there is another development that I think you’ll find interesting.”

“Oh?” asked Hermione, sipping her tea.

“Between a certain Slytherin you favor and a certain twin we might know.”

“Ohhhh,” said Hermione, placing her cup down.

Ginny grinned, and flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically, “Well, it’s come to my attention that-”

The doors to the Great Hall, which were propped open for incoming traffic, were pushed wide open with a loud _bang_ and Professor Slughorn came in, waddling as fast as his legs could carry him. His face was red with exertion and sweat was dripping into his moustache.

“What the hell?” whispered Ginny.

“Could he be anymore dramatic?”

Ginny snickered.

Slughorn was halfway to the Head’s table before he realized he had the entire hall’s attention.

“Oh, do carry on, everyone. Just Head of House’s business.”

“Like hell we’re all going back to eating now,” Ginny said excitedly, “Do you think anyone’s been expelled? It’s been a while since we’ve had even a threat of an expulsion. Things were getting quite boring around here.”

Hermione looked around the table, searching for Harry or Ron.

_Nonsense, if they were in trouble, it would be Professor McGonagall, not Slughorn rushing in here._

Then, to Hermione’s utter horror, Slughorn stood directly in front of Professor McGonagall and whispered frantically.

She sighed and prepared herself.

Professor McGonagall’s face grew grim and she stood up abruptly. Hermione felt a tug on sleeve. Turning, she saw Theo, his eyes wide, breathing heavily.

“Come on, you two. We need to go.”

Ginny sighed and stood up, “What did Harry do this time?”  
Theo shook his head, “It’s Ron. I saw them when they were leaving the dungeons. They’re in the Hospital Wing now.”

Ginny paled and walked swiftly from the hall, Theo and Hermione on her heels.

 

* * *

 

“So, the poison was in the drink?” said Fred quietly.

“Yes,” Harry said quickly, “Slughorn poured it out-”

“Would he have been able to slip something into Ron’s glass without you seeing?”

“Probably,” said Harry, “but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?”

“No idea,” said Fred, frowning. “You don’t think he could have missed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?”

Theo spoke up, “Slughorn’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid.”

“Yeah, and why would Slughorn even want to poison Harry?” asked Ginny.  
Hermione rubbed at her temples. The sound of Harry, Theo and the Weasley’s speculating was tiring. They were just saying the same thing over and over again, just in a different order.

She was feeling too many emotions at once and it was overwhelming. Seeing Ron, pale and lifeless, on the hospital bed opened a flood of feelings that she was not prepared for. Confusion, anger, guilt and fear being a number of them.

“But you said that Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas,” Ginny said, “So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore.”

Hermione huffed, “Then the poisoner didn’t know Slughorn very well,” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, “Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good change he’d keep something that tasty for himself.” Her mind was racing, a new thought was forming on her lips when-

“Er-my-nee” from Ron’s bed.

George snorted, “Did he just say-”

Fred smirked, “The name of his loved one in his sleep? Why yes, he did,” he lifted a hand to his twin, who placed a shiny pile of galleons on his palm. “Thank you, brother, dear.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” whispered Hermione. Theo placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Plot twist,” whispered George. Fred wordlessly handed him back the stack of galleons.

“When he wakes up, I am going to strangle him.”   
Ginny snorted. Theo’s shoulders were shaking.

Harry said weakly, “Please don’t, Hermione. I think Mrs. Weasley would be a bit upset.”

“Ah, she’ll get over it,” chorused Fred and George.

Ginny burst into laughter, “Oh, god. We’re awful people!”

Theo and the twins joined in Ginny’s laughter. Hermione fumed while Harry shook his head, “You guys realize that he almost died?”

Their laughter faded, and they all stood and stared at Ron, who had started snoring.

The dormitory doors flew open, making them all jump. Hagrid came striding in toward them, his hair sopping wet, crossbow in hand and his soaked coat and boots leaving large puddles behind him.

Next to Hermione, Theo leaned towards Fred and whispered in his ear. The redhead snickered and whispered in Theo’s ear, who grinned widely.

Hermione, already in a foul mood, slapped Theo’s arm and leaned over him to glare at Fred. He gave her a crooked smile and winked. Hermione sneered and pulled Theo closer to her.

“What is your problem?” whispered Theo. 

“Seriously? Keep it in your pants, his brother has just been poisoned!” hissed Hermione.

He had on a sly grin, “Oh, Ronald’s fine! Look at him,” he pointed to the hospital bed. Ron’s skin was a deathly pale, his chest rising and falling weakly. 

“How can you say that? He almost died.”

“You were the one who was threatening to strange him.”  
“That’s beside the point.”

Theo rolled his eyes, “I know you all act like this is the first time this has happened, but it’s not. The Hufflepuffs literally place bets at the beginning of the year to see which one of you three are going to be the in the hospital wing first. There are two separate pools, one for injury and the other for attempted murder. I do think Macmillan is going to be disappointed,” Theo inclined his head, “He bet on you.”  

“Charming.”

Theo hummed and looked his shoulder.

Hermione sighed, “Just find somewhere to flirt that’s not over his brother’s hospital bed.”

He shrugged and turned back to Fred, his ears bright red.

“I can’t see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team,” said George.

“Have you met a man name Oliver Wood?” Ginny said incredulously, “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he tried at least once, especially in his seventh year.”

Hermione tutted, “Well, I don’t think Quidditch has anything to do with it, but there is a connection between the attacks.” 

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren’t, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course,” she added matter-of-factly, “that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don’t seem to care how many people they finish off before they reach…” her voice faltered and she took a deep breath, “reach their victim.”

She looked over to Harry, who was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands crossed tightly, his knuckles pale. His dark brow was drawn, his eyes moving back and forth over Ron’s body.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Hermione had woken up late to an empty dormitory. She was displeased that her roommates didn’t bother to see if she was awake before they left for breakfast. She threw on the nearest uniform and piled her hair on top of her head, not even bothering to cover the dark circles under her eyes with a charm and flew down the stairs.

“Morning ‘Mione.”

Ginny was exiting her room and for once, her hair was just as messy as Hermione’s.

“Morning Gin. What time did you end up leaving last night?”

Ginny yawned, “Not until three. It wasn’t until Professor McGonagall came in and reminded me that I wasn’t excused from classes today that I went to bed. I would say she was a heartless woman, but I was playing Exploding Snap with Fred and George.”

Hermione stifled a smile, “Did he wake up yet?”

Ginny shook her head and yawned again, covering her mouth, “I need coffee.”

As they descended the stairs, a piercing voice grew louder and louder.

“-I’m his girlfriend! Don’t you think I had the right to know? I had to find out from Seamus! And he wasn’t tactful about it either!”

Lavender Brown had cornered a very tired Harry, who looked like he would rather face another dragon than deal with Ron’s disgruntled girlfriend.

“It all happened so fast. I didn’t even leave the Hospital Wing until late last night and-”

“But you called for other people! I know because Hermione didn’t get in until after I was asleep, and I just think that was-”

“Oh no, angry girlfriend,” hissed Ginny, “Abort. Abort before she sees you. Normally I would be all for this, but it’s too damn early.”

The two girls quietly entered the Common Room, ducking behind people walking by, crouching behind chairs and couches until they reached the exit. Hermione looked over her shoulder as she walked through the portrait, he was rubbing his forehead, his eyes shut tight. She started to feel bad, just for a moment, then she remembered the incident in the Potions classroom with the bezoar and didn’t feel quite so bad leaving him in Lavender’s clutches.

“I can’t stand her. Ugh, how she calls him… Won Won,” Ginny snorted then pretended to throw up over the balcony, making loud retching noises, scaring a few first years a floor below them.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You still sure about yesterday?”

“What about yesterday?”

“About Ron, you’re over him?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

Ginny sighed, “Mum’s gonna be upset. And now, no one is going to win the bet.”

“Yes, what was that?” asked Hermione, thinking of the twins exchanging gold.

“Well,” started Ginny, “I settled for next year in the fall. Fred had his sights on this month and next, George thought it was going to happen over this summer, and I forget what Bill said. I think he said the end of next year. Yes, he did because I told him that he was stupid. It’s NEWTS for you next year and you’re going to be an absolute wreck, not thinking about a relationship with Ron.”

“You bet on me?” questioned Hermione.

Ginny shrugged, “You and Ron. Theo refused, he said he was holding out on you coming to your senses,” she paused as they reached the bottom of the stairs, “Shit. If you don’t end up with Ron, that means that Theo would win. Damn.”

Hermione couldn’t find it within herself to berate Ginny for betting on her love life, thinking it would be rather hypocritical, as Hermione had done the same with Ginny’s. They had reached the entrance to the Great Hall, when they ran into Theo.

“Hello ladies,” he gave Hermione a swift hug, squeezing her tight, “Everything go okay yesterday?”

Ginny nodded and started telling the same story of the heartless McGonagall, when Hermione saw a head of blonde hair pass by the trio. She felt his eyes on her, burning her skin, but she stared at Ginny telling her tale, staring so intently that her sight started to blur. When they walked into the Great Hall, she sat with her back to the table filled with green and silver ties. Ginny was chatting away to Theo, who sat next to her. While she quietly prepared her tea, she felt a nudge against her leg. Theo was staring at her. He mouthed, _You okay?_

Hermione shrugged and turned back to her cup of tea.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Hermione walked into the Hospital Wing, a large bar of chocolate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, “I heard Madam Pomfrey banned coffee.”

Ron let out a sigh of relief, “Bless you,” and gingerly took the cup from Hermione’s hands, taking a long and noisy sip. Hermione winced and sat in the chair by his bedside. “She’s been on a health kick. No sugar, no caffeine. Apparently, it’s supposed to help get the toxins out of my system. But really, without all that, is it even worth it?”

She looked over her shoulder to the entrance and sighed.

“What?”  
“Huh? Oh, Theo was supposed to meet me here, the chocolate is from both of us, but I didn’t want your coffee to get cold.”

Ron smiled, his blue eyes alive with mischief, “There is such thing as a heating charm you know?”

Hermione flushed, “Yeah, I remembered that now.”

He chuckled, his mug lifted to his lips and blew. The steam’s twists and twirls were hypnotizing. Hermione watched them curl and fall over each other only to dissolve into nothingness. When her eyes focused again, Ron was staring at her.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey.”

“I- uh. I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m an arse.”

“I know, Ronald.”

He smirked, “Know that I’m sorry or that I’m an arse?”

She smiled thinly, “Both I guess.”

“No, I’m serious though,” he placed the mug on his lap, gripping the handle tightly until his knuckles turned white, “I think almost dying gives you some perspective, at least for me. I’ve been thinking, it’s always been the three of us. Always. I can’t remember what life was like before the two of you and I ever want to.”

_Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say. Please don’t._

“And… I don’t know… I feel like I really fucked up our friendship… with that stupid party. It was just a lot of pressure and-”

“Pressure?” Hermione asked incredulously, “It was a Christmas party, not a proposal of marriage.”

“That’s the thing though, it was a lot of pressure, like…” he sighed, “I didn’t want things to change from the three of us, but if we went to that party together, it would have changed, you know?”

“Maybe I wanted it to change!” cried Hermione.

“Oh.”

Hermione’s eyes were burning, everything within her was trying to force the coming tears back down. She refused to appear weak in front of Ron.

“I wanted something, and you didn’t. There’s no shame in that. I am not going to apologize for how I... felt. But I didn’t react properly, so I do apologize for that.”

Ron’s cheeks were rosy pink, “But- maybe I did want something to change too.”

Hermione huffed, “Well you’re a bit late for that.”

A tense, awkward silence filled the space between them.

“Well…” he leaned forward, tentatively, “If there still a chance that we-”

“Ronald Weasley!” shrieked Hermione, “You have a girlfriend!”

His spine snapped back abruptly, “Right… Right…”

“Jesus Christ,” snapped Hermione, brushing nonexistent lint off of her robes.

“Don’t yell at me!”

“I’m not yelling! I’m just amazed at how clueless you’re being-”

“Oh, don’t even. It’s not like you’ve even tried to make things easy for me!”

“What?”

“You’re-” he lifted his hands in the air, one of them still clenching his mug full of hot coffee, “You’re always belittling me. I’m not stupid, I’m quite smart if just not in the way that you think people should be.”

“I do think you’re smart Ron!”

“And- and you’re just so fucking intimidating!”

“Intimidating? Me?”

Ron huffed and rolled his eyes, “Don’t act like you don’t know. You’re so fucking smart and beautiful-” Hermione scoffed, “-and when you were fourteen you dated Victor Krum. Victor Bloody Krum, how am I supposed to feel about that?”

“I was fifteen for your information and you’re not supposed to-”

“How do I even compare to that? Victor fucking Krum, Hermione!”

“Oh my god, seriously Ronald? That was years-”

“Am I interrupting something?” Theo approached the two, looking uneasy.

“Nothing of importance, Theo,” snapped Hermione, glaring at Ron.

Ron scoffed. Hermione stuck her tongue out. The corner of Ron’s mouth twitched.  

Theo rolled his eyes, “You’re both children. Give me the chocolate Hermione, you’re crushing it.” He threw the bar at Ron, narrowly missing his lap, “Eat up Ronald. This is a ‘Glad to see you’re not dead you utter twat’ present.”

“Cheers,” mumbled Ron around a mouthful of chocolate.

Hermione huffed and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. Theo took the seat opposite her and looked hesitantly between the two. Ron took another loud sip of coffee and Hermione opened her mouth, but Theo interjected loudly, “Quidditch! There’s another match tomorrow.”

“I know,” Hermione and Ron said in unison.

“McLaggen is taking my place,” Ron said, “Apparently the practices have been awful. Harry’s been in a right mood. I doubt we’ll win.”

“I don’t really care about that quite honestly. I’m looking forward to the commentary.”

“Why’s that?” asked Ron around a mouthful of chocolate.

Theo rolled his eyes, “Luna Lovegood is commentating.”

“Bloody Brilliant! Oh, I wish I could see the look on McGonagall’s face.”

Theo hummed and inspected the nails on his right hand, “Too bad you’ll be caught up in here huh?”  
Ron glowered. Hermione could hear the click of the clock on the wall behind them.

Theo clapped his hands together, “Well, as pleasant and informing as this has been. I’m going to fail that Charms quiz tomorrow if I don’t study.”

“Honestly, Theo, it’s not going to be that difficult,” Hermione stood up and brushed off her robes, “You know the theory, it’s the actual spells that you have trouble with.”

“Thank you, Hermione. I’m quite aware that I’m shit at Charms.”

“You can cast a non-corporeal Patronus! I wouldn’t call that rubbish. Most grown wizards can’t claim that!”

Theo rolled his eyes and stood, “Says the woman who mastered that charm in two days-” 

“I haven’t mastered it; I actually do have quite a bit of trouble with it-” 

 “Chocolate! Coffee! I told you no Mr. Weasley!”

Ron frantically tried to hide the half-eaten bar of chocolate under his pillow, but the matron had already seen.

Theo shook his head and headed towards the exit, talking over his shoulder, “I tried to tell him Madam Pomfrey, but those Weasleys. Their stubbornness gets the best of them.” He grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her with him, ignoring Ron’s protests behind them.

 

* * *

 

Harry was at a meeting with Dumbledore and Hermione was patrolling the corridors… with Ron by her side. He was released from the Hospital Wing that morning, and despite Hermione’s protests that she would be fine to patrol by herself, he insisted on joining her. The comfort she had formally felt in Ron’s presence was overwhelmed by Ron’s awkward chatter and long pauses, making the whole situation extremely painful.

“I just think that it’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t be fighting with my sister; she’s done nothing wrong.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows and said dully, “Well, Ginny never really backs down from a fight. In a matter of fact, she often provokes the fight.”

Ron shook his head, “Think he’s being a bit of dick is all.”

“Ginny is more than capable of telling Dean that herself, she doesn’t need you to-”

“Oi! What are you doing here?” yelled Ron.

And there he was, the very person Hermione wanted to talk to more than anything, yet she was also quite content on ignoring his existence. Malfoy was leaning against the same wall they had shared a bottle of Firewhisky. But this time, he was empty handed, and she had a redhead with a grudge standing next to her.

“Weasel King. Granger,” Malfoy stood straight and headed towards them, nodding his head as he passed.

“It’s after curfew, you dolt,” spat Ron, the tips of his ears turning red, “You can’t just-”

“Okay then, what will it be?” he stopped and turned to face them, hands clasped behind his back, “Detention? Points? Or are you going to take a page from Filtch’s book and hang me by my toes in the Dungeon?”

“I’m going-”

“And do hurry up, Weasel. I’m awfully tired and would like nothing more to be in my bed.”

_Is he sober?_

His words from their last visit echoed in her mind, _I saw how it bothered you that you thought I could only speak to you while pissed, so I decided to take it easy tonight._

_Good god, he’s sober._

Her cheeks darkened and a fluttered exploded in her stomach.

_Stop it. You’re not going to do this right now. Not without answers. Don’t be daft._

“Uh…” started Ron.

“Let’s say fifteen points, shall we? That was what I normally took from students who broke curfew.”

“I’m the Prefect here-”

Hermione sighed, “Twenty points, Malfoy. You’ve done enough, now go to your common room.”

For the first time that night, his grey eyes pierced hers. Unwavering she stared back and raised her eyebrows, “Are you protesting?”

He smirked, “Of course not.” He bowed his head towards the Gryffindors, mockingly, then turned towards the stairs, his footsteps leaving behind an echo.

“Prat,” Ron yelled down the stair well.  

“Yeah, a prat,” whispered Hermione, “Come on. We’re almost done, let’s just finish this floor and go to bed.”

While they walked silently to the Common Room, Hermione was deep in thought, twisting and turning different scenarios in her head, desperate for any outcome, anything that pulled her away from her growing suspicions.

“You’re a bit quiet tonight.”

Hermione hummed.

“Hey, I was thinking-” started Ron.

“Oi!” They turned to see Harry sprinting up the stairs, “Wait up!”

“Oh, how was your lesson Harry?” asked Hermione excitedly.

“Never mind that, I saw you met up with Malfoy! What happened? Where was he going?”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” snapped Hermione. “How could you possible know that?”

Harry pulled his map from pocket and waved it in her face, “Now what happened?”  
Hermione groaned, “He was out after curfew, we took twenty points and Ron called him a prat. That was it.”

Harry grumbled, “There’s got to be something. I know there’s something.”

Hermione sighed, “Come on, Harry,” she grabbed his arm and led him towards the Fat Lady. “Abstinence,” the portrait swung open. “Tell us about your lesson.”

 

* * *

 

“That is interesting… I just don’t know how…”

“Yeah, I know. That’s all you’ve been saying for the past week,” grumbled Ron, head bent low over his parchment.

“Well it is. Placing a curse upon the job that he was refused? A childlike tantrum, sure, but extremely interesting. A curse upon an actual teaching position? I wonder how he-”

“Yes, yes. We get it.”  
Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. She was glad Ron was alive and well, and his recent brush with death had helped her prioritize her friendships over her pride. But that did not mean she had to be happy with him.

Harry was flipping through his potions book, glancing at one page, then turning to the next.

“You won’t find anything in there,” Hermione said sharply.

“Don’t start Hermione,” Harry said without looking up from his book, “If it hadn’t been for the Prince, Ron wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“He would have if you had been listening to Professor Snape in our first year!” Hermione snapped.

Harry ignored her and continued to flip through his book. She watched him as he folded down the edge of the page and would have been horrified, if the book hadn’t already been covered in ink and dog-eared pages. Ron was writing frantically across his parchment, smearing ink as he went.

“I’m telling you, the stupid Prince isn’t going to be able to help you with this, Harry!” she continued, her voice rising, “There’s only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that’s the Imperius Curse, which is illegal-”

“Yeah, I know that, thanks. That’s why I’m looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won’t do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell…”

“You’re going about it the wrong way,” Hermione said impatiently, “Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people can’t. It’s not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that-”

“How do you spell ‘belligerent’?” asked Ron, “It can’t be-”

“I’m talking Ronald. Don’t be rude.” 

“Well, have you got any brilliant ideas to help Harry?” snapped Ron, throwing his quill down on his essay, “Or are you just going to scold him?”

Hermione cheeks darkened, “Yes. As Theo for advice. He’s a Slytherin as well.”

Ron groaned, “I doubt Theo would help anyway. He’s been bit of a dick lately.”  
“Huh. I wonder why,” Hermione asked dryly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“God, your obliviousness astounds me. It truly-”

“Okay, guys. Please drop it. I actually miss being in the same vicinity as my two best friends without them biting each other’s heads off.”

“Sorry,” muttered Hermione.

“Yeah, sorry _mum_.”

Hermione involuntarily snorted. Ron grinned slyly and cross his arms, looking too pleased with himself.

She shook her head and turned to Harry, “You might be able to ask him about Horcruxes too-”

“You know we shouldn’t involve him Hermione-”

“I know, I know. It’s irresponsible But, if not mentioning the word directly, just dark magic in general. If Dumbledore won’t tell you, I’m sure Theo has some idea and it might help in your process to get that memory.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” questioned Harry.  
“Well, Theo-”

“No. ‘If Dumbledore won’t tell you.’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry cheeks were darker than normal, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Well,” she looked around at the two boys sitting with her, “He has to know.”

“What?”

“He’s one of the most brilliant wizards in history! He has an Order of Merlin first class, discovered the twelve uses of Dragon Blood and defeated Grindelwald! He has to know what a Horcrux is.”

“Yeah, but… why wouldn’t he just tell me?” Harry asked weakly.

Hermione shrugged, picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, “I’m not sure. Possibly a lesson. There should be more information in the memory than just the definition of a Horcrux. He may think finding this out for yourself is for your own good…” she looked up to see Harry looking extremely distress and a bit sick.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“It’s just-” he ran a hand through his curls, “If he already knows, this seem just like needless stress for me,” he rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses to his forehead, “There’s just a lot going on right now, with Snape being a complete dick, Quidditch, classes, Apparation practice and G- It’s all a bit much, you know?”

Ron hummed and looked down at his essay, eyebrows drawn together, “You’ve got this mate.”

“Honestly, if you’re stressed about this, talk to Theo, I’m sure he’ll help you.”

“ _Theo_ isn’t the answer to everything Hermione. Now, how do you spell ‘belligerent’? I know it’s not B-U-M-”

“B-E-L-L-I-G-E-R-E-N-T,” she looked over Ron’s head to his essay, “What are you doing? ‘Augury’ doesn’t begin with O-R-G either. Your paper is littered with spelling mistakes. What quill are you using?”

“It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Checking ones, but I think the charm must be wearing off.”

“Obviously. Because we were asked how we’d deal with Dementors, not ‘Dugbogs,’ and I don’t remember you changing your name to ‘Roonil Wazbil’ either.”

“Shit! Don’t say I’ll have to write the whole thing out again!” Ron looked so distressed that even Hermione winced in sympathy.

“Give it here.”

Ron looked up hopefully, “Really?”  
“Give it here before I change my mind!” snapped Hermione. She pulled out her wand and started tapping the incorrectly spelled words, the letters changing and rearranging themselves into their proper place.

Ron sunk into his chair and rubbed his eyes, “I love you, Hermione.”

She paused in her correcting, color rising to her face, darkening her cheeks. She caught Harry’s eye. He looked positively horrified. She opened her mouth, absolutely furious, when Harry started shaking his head franticly. Ron was still slumped in his seat, eyes closed. Hermione waved her hand towards Ron violently, and gave Harry an exasperated look. He continued to shake his head, eyes pleading, mouthing, _Please. No. Please._

Her fist tightened, crumping Ron’s essay. She sent a rude gesture to Ron, his eyes still closed. Harry snorted softly.

“Look at the time! I wanted to go to bed half an hour ago!” Hermione said cheerfully. She unceremoniously dumped Ron’s wrinkled essay and quill on his lap and started stuffing books and parchment into her bag, wanting nothing more than to be in her bed behind drawn curtains so she could either scream or cry, she hadn’t decided yet. Probably both.

“Are you finished with the essay?”

Hermione smiled sweetly, she must have looked a fright, because Ron sunk lower into his chair, “I’m sure you can figure it out. Good night boys.”

Walking up the stairs to her dormitory, she heard Ron whisper, “Was it something I said?”  
Harry sighed, “She’s got a point, Ron. Your obliviousness honestly astounds me.”

 

 

 


End file.
